Lead the way home
by QueenYoda
Summary: Force, what a story to tell my master. So far I have been kidnapped, chased by bounty hunters, flown in a suicide ship, dressed a naked Jedi master, crashed on a mysterious planet of clay, trekked in scorching heat, and now tasted a giant worm. Then again, this is normal procedure when you're friends with Obi-wan Kenobi.
1. Chapter 1

~Garen~

"AAARRRGGHHH!" This throaty, earsplitting call, native to the particular species of female we were dealing with told me, a sixteen–year-old Jedi Padawan, that my force blasted useless friends in the back have as of yet not done anything to restrain the heated Wookie.

By_ heated_, of course, I mean sexually active, or trying to be. All over Jedi Master Qui-gon. He is naked, or he was when I was back there.

Right now, I'm piloting the vaping piece of space junk Tachi managed to _negotiate _for us at the last port. Needless to say; I need new friends.

"Garen!" Kenobi howls from the back, over the screeching cries of the frenetic Wookie. "We're supposed to be _flying_, not falling!" Arrogant barve, we are not _falling,_ we are just doing a bit of a nosedive. In addition, it is his own fault anyway.

I mean, we are being shot at, what does he want me to do, huh? Fly in a straight line and at forty clicks per blasted hour, so that I'm legally following the _speed limit_?

There are not one or two, no, that'd be easy for me, but_ five_ ships cascading after us with ringing blaster bolts firing from each hull. Bounty hunters, man. They want our lovely royal highness back there, and this time, I do not mean the Gundark Kenobi, either.

That female Wookie aforementioned?

Yeah, she is the current princess of the Wookie people, whom these hooligans behind me had kidnapped and held hostage aboard their ship, ready to earn a quick and rather large buck selling her on the slave market. Republic involvement was pleaded in favor of, Jedi intervention was needed, and the rest of our masters had to stay on Kashyysk to keep the peace…

And here we are.

Let me just explain to you how _stupid _my life is right now. In the back, Kenobi, Quin-lan and Siri are trying to pry over a thousand pounds of raw muscle off the unconscious, critically injured and naked Master Qui-gon Jinn.

I can rather tell it is not working out for them. Bant, ever the gentle one, is in the copilot's seat, her Mon Calamari face twisted into panic.

Bant is an apprentice healer, and as such, she hasn't really gone on many missions, but this one demanded it. Or, _Obi-wan_ demanded it, because conveniently (there is no such thing as coincidence) Bant was at the local college on the last Planet we were on, studying with the students there. Having a good time too, I reckon.

Somehow, Quinlan managed to get a hold of her, by that I also mean to infer that he managed to sneak in at the dead of night, _abduct _her and drag her blindfolded to our hotel in order to try and heal pale faced Master Jinn.

We had already rescued the Wookie royalty, and in the escape of _that _mess, Master Qui-gon had been point five seconds too slow to deactivate a bomb before it…Err…Well…_exploded_.

He has not woken up since then. Just as Bant was half giving her diagnosis and half-delivering Mr. Vos a piece of her well-tuned mind, however, we were attacked. Funny, eh?

No, not funny, because we had to race out of the hotel before any civilians were hurt because of our shenanigans. Then, being beleaguered by blaster bolts the _entire way_, we made our way through the town, hauling the unconscious Jedi master on a quickly crumbling stretcher made in about two standard seconds, and somehow Siri ran ahead and managed to charm us this piece of bantha poodoo. However, all of that was in the past. Jedi do not focus on the past, merely the present moment.

Unfortunately, at this present moment, Kenobi is insulting my piloting skills. "Unless you want to come and drive us yourself, your honored majesty, could you kindly shut the kriff up?" I holler back at him, and I hope that through the haze of unconsciousness, Master Qui-gon did not hear me say that.

Never mind, though, present moment. I spiral the ship out of the way of a torpedo. "It's coming around!" Bant squeaks, covering her eyes.

I grin, not that stupid, Bant. "I know," I assure her as I dip the ship downwards again. Anything not bolted down flies across the room. I hear several thumps from the back. "Ooof!" My comrades yelp in unison, as I assume they are flung against a wall.

A quick glance at Bant shows she's star struck with awesome alarm, and paler than usual. The torpedo flies above our heads and true to my plan, hits one of our pursers instead. The ship explodes, shaking our ship violently, but at least the scores are evened out a bit.

Suddenly, Siri stumbles from the back, looking as disheveled as a drunken spice pilot. The idea makes me grin at her. "Nice flying, champion," she gripes sarcastically, rubbing the back of her big head. You just can't be nice to people nowadays, huh?

Obi-wan and Quinlan follow. "I'll be here all week. What about the Wookie?" I ask, as I jerk my head to indicate the back. "Your suicide dive knocked her out," Quinlan gasps dramatically, falling into a seat behind Bant.

"And Master Jinn nearly knocked _me_ out when he landed on me," Obi-wan adds. "Wouldn't have been a great loss, Obi," I respond casually, as I tweak a few more buttons. I still have no clue what exactly this ship is capable of, and now that I've gotten rid of their little friend, the bounty hunters back there are _mad_.

To prove this, the ship jolts with a sudden bang and we all are nearly upchucked from our seats. "Blast it all!" Siri curses, as she looks at me with fire in her eyes. "Hey, don't look at me, it was them! Kenobi, plan time. What are we going to do?" I demand to take their minds off throttling me and back to the situation.

Thankfully, they fall for the bait and Kenobi is suddenly in the spotlight where he is most comfortable, haughty Gundark that he is.

"The only thing we can," Obi-wan huffs, daringly standing from his seat to put a hand on Bant's shuddering shoulder. "Let me take co-pilot, Bant. Would you go lock up Master Qui-gon?" Ah, good strategy Obi, our friend was getting a little pale there, even for a fish.

Bant bolts for the back like her life depends on it, and really? It sort of does. Because those thrice accursed bounty hunters have hit our left engine, and it's is in a smoking, irreparable heap.

Now we are falling. I can only thank the force we are falling towards _a planet_. Obi-wan plops down beside me while Quin-lan and Siri smartly and quickly strap themselves in, calling to the force, willing it for aide. I called on it long ago, and it has kept me calm so far.

I feel a detached sort of amusement if truth be told, that we're falling again, just like Kenobi said a few minutes ago. He jinxed us, really. "This isn't funny, Garen," Obi-wan grounds out, his hand shaking on the throttles.

It isn't him; despite his hatred of flying he is too cultured and serene to allow his outward movements to betray it, it's the ship and the fact that we are dropping to a _vertical_ descent. It disconcerts me a bit that he sensed my amusement so fast; sometimes he's scarily perceptive.

"We have to slow our descent!" Siri hollers. "No kidding. Any idea how?" We're caught in the atmosphere now. There_ is_ no cajoling gravity. If we do not slow down we'll burn up before we ever hit the ground, and if I'm going to stop it I really need suggestions, and fast. The ship rocks again.

Arethey _still _firing at us? Can't they see we're already down? If they blow up the ship, how are they going to sell the Wookie? Blast, we not only have bounty hunters, but_ stupid_ bounty hunters to boot.

Obi-wan is thinking. I can see it in the way his brow goes all storm cloud. "We can't slow our descent," he mutters o himself, the force or both. "But we can soften our landing," he says. I stare at him.

"Kenobi if we don't slow down we won't _live_ long enough to see a landing!" Quin-lan screams. "Never the matter, you all are going to have to trust me," Obi-wan say, fingering and tapping every button with incredible speed. I stare in horror. What is he _doing?_

"That is the most idiotic idea I've ever heard in my confounded life! What are you doing?" Siri voices my sentiment in an infuriated screech. That acid tongue and hot head of hers should mark her as a future Sith.

"Saving us. Now do as I say. Get to the back and build a force protection shield around all of you, her royal highness and Master Qui-gon. I'll be back there in a minute," he wants us to do what? The windows are showing nothing but red and orange flames licking at them now.

Tiny cracks break out, and the force chimes with a warning. Soon that glass will break; we'll burn up and ultimately die. What is a force protection shield going to do?

"What? Obi-wan, we are _not_…" I begin, because for force sake's this is no time for games, but Obi-wan interrupts me with a sharp look that could lacerate skin with its jaggedness. "Do you trust me?" he demands severely, and I know he is talking to the others too.

They all fall silent; the only sound that of the cracking glass and blaster shots behind us. The force is stagnant with his utter, single-minded _resolve _to try this plan of his that is bound to end in disaster, but he does not care about that, he will do what he kriffing must to save us, the mission, the princess back there and if it ever came to it, he'd save the galaxy.

I believe he will someday.

It is this belief, beyond doubt unwarranted and undeserved on his part, truly, that makes me stand, fists clenched at my sides, eyes glaring down at his. He wants to play Master Yoda? Fine. But when I wake up in the next few minutes a ghost, I will make him feel horrible about this for the rest of eternity.

"No, I don' t trust your overconfident pelt, but I'll do it anyway because I don't have a better proposal. Come on, guys, we're going to go die now," I call to the others, who mumble their consent. Obi-wan smiles at me, without humor, but gratitude is hinting in his eyes.

Do not thank me, you chosski. I do not trust you, I _don't._ I'm just feeling somewhat suicidal today so I have elected to follow your wise lead in that regard.

Leaving him to whatever evil scientist plot he's hatching with the ship's computer, the rest of us run to the back, where Bant has already laid both injured patients side by side and is working cheerfully on them, totally in her element.

To my relief, she has also redressed Master Qui-gon in the ruined and wrecked remnants of his tunic. How she did that without going _blind_ is a healers trick. "Bant-get down. We're making a shield," I order, closing the door behind me.

Obi-wan had better hurry. Suddenly, the ship bucks. It is literally_ burning_ in here. I can see a few small objects have already started to melt. I thank the force we will be fried, and not baked; after all there are worse ways to die.

Bant looks up at me. "What? Why?" She demands, so innocent, so unknowing. The ships bucks again, and I hear the sound of blaster fire getting closer? What is he doing up there? Ignoring the urge to go see, I quickly sit on one side of Master Qui-gon's, legs folded underneath me.

"Hurry," I order breathlessly. I can feel how tense the force is, how _desperate._ Man, it's only in the face of death that you realize how much you don't want to die, how young you truly are, how much you haven't yet seen, how _insignificant _you are compared to everything else.

The others file around me until we are a tight knit square around the Jedi Master and princess. Our skins begins to blister underneath our tunics, we're soaked in sweat, gasping in dry and thin air, fighting down the urge to _scream_ with alarm. We call in the force, individually, warping it into one power, until there are no individuals, only the force, only_ us_.

The ships jolts again, so hard we're thrown into the air, but somehow manage to keep concentration. It feels like we're getting pounded physically by the other ships. What in the universe?

Obi-wan isn't here yet, but I can hardly focus on that. The force is consuming, is plentiful, aiding, strengthening. It is shrieking in our ears like the buzz of my saber, and I can smell Tarlipian Cornelia's and hear the lapping of water on a shore. Is this the force?

Are we going home, after so little time in this surreal universe? Somehow, I don't want to go, not yet, don't want to go to the noises of sea birds and smell of saltwater. I want to stay _here_…

My master. Obi-wan. My friends. Qui-gon. The princess. The temple. The mission…If I can just hold on to them maybe they can anchor me here…The ship jolts a last time, and I hit my head. Then all goes dark.


	2. Chapter 2

~Siri~

"AAARRRGGHHH!" This throaty, earsplitting call, native to the particular species of female we were dealing with told me, a sixteen-year-old Jedi Padawan, that we are still alive. What a wonderful wake up call, huh?

I am currently suspended in warmth, a cocoon of sorts. Maybe it's just unconsciousness, I would know. After all, I have felt this feeling before, a number of times after torture, too. Someone is calling my name and ugh, can't they just shut up?

If your name is not Master Yoda, Master Gallia or _the force, _you have no right to be waking me this early, or at all. You have no right to be in my presence, actually. What sort of fool thinks he can pat my leg?

I kick it. Him. Her in something that feels like a cranium and a muffled curse proceeds afterwards. Kriff it all, what happened? My head hurts like someone stomped on it. Did Quin-lan try to tackle me again last night? Or, no, that wasn't me he was trying to tackle but Garen, and I just happened to be in the way of their tussle.

Honestly, can you not tell my life is just plain stupid? Why do I hang around such people? I need to expand my horizons a bit and find new friends.

Whatever…Ugh, who are you? And what are you even saying? Why is it in Wookie? Then suddenly, my memory decides to grant me the honor of its presence and I sit straight up with a gasp.

We're alive!

"Ow!" Quin-lan gasps, doubling over. I realize, with a sigh of disgust that it appears that when I sat up my head hit him directly in a soft place between his thighs. Master Gallia has often informed me that I have a hard head, but I did not think she meant it so literally till now.

"Fool!" I snap as Garen bursts into laughter and Quin-lan falls to his knees, gasping like a fish out of water. Oh, sorry Bant, no pun intended my friend. Hey, where is she anyway? I don't see her. Then again, I don't see much. My vision is sort of blurry.

"What were you doing standing over me?" I demand of Quin-lan. "I just wanted to go to the bathroom, man!" He complains miserably, dark face splotched with pain.

"On me?" I spit, disgusted and angry now. What sort of sick heathen pees on a person's head? Is not that against The Code? Where's Obi-wan? He would know.

"No! I was going…Then Garen told me to help him…And you wouldn't wake up…I patted your leg but you kicked my head!...So-so I stood and then you sat up…and now I can't have children," he explains in a breathless rush. Garen whoops with laughter. I for one; am most displeased.

"Children are against the Code, Gundark brains, you know that. Where are we? How did we survive?" I ask Garen, who is literally red in the face with amusement. I don't think he's going to answer me anytime soon. I roll my eyes and inspect my surroundings.

We're above ground and over there…Blast, is that our ship? Or, what is left of it. The entire lower half is sticking at a vertical angle into the air, sort of. The rest of the cockpit and front half are rooted into the dirt around us. Speaking of which, what sort of dirt is this? It feels like clay.

There is no vegetation or life to be seen around us. It's only a barren, gray and certainly squelchy land of…Clay. The sun above us is a navy color and callous, a single filmy cloud resides at its side. Several stars twinkle around it. It's late afternoon, then…Or early dawn.

Whichever this planet's rotations prefer. "Ah…Ah, funny stuff. Anyway, Siri, I have no clue where we are. Somewhere near the planet I was aiming for obviously, Naboo, but maybe on one of its moons, or a nearby planet. As for how we survived, you can ask Obi-wan that when we find him,"

Obi-wan…_Obi-wan! _I whip around.

"You lost him!?" I shout. He was in the cockpit! Did he ever join us like he said? If not, then he has to be in this wreckage of complete twaddle littering the clay, and if that happened then he is in several different pieces, surely. I feel a bit of alarm; after all, I do like Kenobi. He's a barve, but a barve who means well. How dare Garen lose him without my explicit instructions?

"No!" Garen says instinctively, then scowls. "Well, yes, but it isn't my fault he chose to do whatever he did! Don't worry. The Princess is lifting all of the heavy debris out of the way looking for him," he assures me.

I find no solace in the fact that a sensual Wookie Princess is looking for a Padawan that potentially could have had all his clothes burned off.

"Bant? Is she all right? Master Jinn?" I inquire, shading my eyes to probe the area with the force and my own vision. "Yep, she's okay, and checking Master Jinn as we speak. Hey Vos, get up, you're the tracker, can't you find Obi-wan?" Garen says, nudging the moaning man with his toe.

"I'm still trying to find an important part of my structure. I think Siri flattened it," Quin-lan snaps back. Garen looks tempted to laugh, but refrains. "Congratulations. Up, buddy, we have to find Obi-wan, he could be hurt," yet this fact does not matter to Mr. Vos. He only remains on the ground like the barbarian he is while Obi-wan is missing.

"Guys," Bant walks up, and her eyes brighten when she see me. I smile; Bant and I are the only responsible and _sensible_ ones of this group, I swear.

"Siri, you're awake! You okay Quin-lan?" she asks, large eyes floating over to him with concern. "He's just being a barve again, don't fuss over him. How's Qui-gon?" Garen asks with a wave of his hand.

"He's getting worse. He has an infection in a lot of the cuts and burns he suffered from that explosion. I sent him into a healing trance and made him a reasonably safe stretcher, but soon he'll wake up again. He was muttering something about Obi-wan though, and Tahl. It sounded like he was apologizing for something," she explains, brows crinkling.

We all fall silent. Neither Qui-gon nor Obi-wan have been the same since Tahl's death. It hit them both hard, and though I haven't seen much of Obi-wan since then. I can see the way his eyes are just _shadowy,_ like a light was snuffed out in his soul. And Master Qui-gon…Before his eyes would glimmer with amusement or kindness, now they seem almost dead with despair and fury.

We never talk about Tahl for Obi-wan's sake, but we do worry.

"As soon as we find him we'll ask him," Garen decides. "But we have to locate him first," he points out. Quin-lan stands, murmuring angrily, but sets his shoulders. Before he could search the force for answers, though, a new voice joins the fray.

"Uuurrgghhh!" We all look up to see Her Highness lugging an unconscious body over her shoulder. My heart skips a beat for no good reason. "Obi-wan!"

After all, it's not like I'm _worried _or anything…Even if I am the first one to run to them…Whatever, okay? Kenobi, he is special to me. Ever since that night he saved me from Bruck…He's my friend. Friends protect each other. That is how it goes. "Where was he?" I demand as I take him from her shoulder.

His clothes are intact, thankfully. A little scorched and he smells like burnt toast, and has ash marks on his face and arms, along with the standard blisters that adorn us all, but looks alright. Until we open his tunic. His chest has been blasted with scattered pieces of shrapnel and glass, some piercing deep.

I inhale sharply. Obi-wan you idiot, why can't you ever do anything right? You can't even get hurt correctly. Good people get hurt lightly, you have to go and make it difficult as always. You are a horrible person.

Our victim of kidnapping watches us with thoughtful eyes, and grunts out a few phrases none of us can understand. Seeing this she points obligingly towards the butt of ship sticking out of the clay.

He must have made it halfway to the back before…_Something_ happened, apparently. Whatever he did, he saved our lives. Idiot. Arrogant, haughty, conceited, cowardly fool. He just didn't want anyone else to get the credit for it. Bant moves over his unworthy and muscled hide, deft webbed fingers working at healing.

We all kneel around them. "Oh, you brave youngling Poodoo. Why do you do this, Obi? He's not hurt overly bad. But if an infection gets into these cuts, it'll be the death of him," she surveys, with a sigh. "Serves him right," I grunt.

Garen casts me a hot glance, his own eyes filled with distress, but says nothing about my comment. "We need to make a stretcher," he tells us, standing.

"If we _are_ on one of Naboo's moons or even a planet nearby, it has to be inhabited. There are no planets non-inhabited in this system, so far as the Republic knows. Our comm.. link's aren't long distance and the long distance comm. Link's are fried," he reports.

I nod. "And if we aren't on one of Naboo's moons or a planet nearby?" I ask. Garen shrugs. "We'll figure it out as we go. For now, we must start moving," he says, and I think this is a brilliant plan except for one inconsistency. "Which way do we go?" Bant pipes in.

Garen's façade of calm authority vanishes into uncertainty. "I don't know," he admits. The Princess lets out what can only be described as a disappointed groan. Sorry, sweetie, we should have warned you about ourselves. As Jedi, we do tend to get people into these sorts of disasters. We don't _try,_ honestly.

We all fall into a grim silence. We can't just _stay_ here, yet it would not be wise to start moving without a set destination in mind. "Hey," I realize. "Does anyone know whatever happened to the bounty hunters?" No answer. So, we can only assume we are at the moment being watched or tracked by deadly assassins. Brilliant, how perfectly marvelous.

"Ugh…What_ hit_ me?" We hear from below. We all look down and grin to see Obi-wan's eyes fluttering open. The Wookie lets out a shriek of delight. I sigh with relief; it'll be okay now.

If there is anything Obi-wan was born to do, it is defeat the odds with a splash of dark and witty humor. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Kenobi," Quin-lan snorts, as he and Garen kneel by the befuddled boy, helping him sit up.

"_Ow…_Quin-lan? Land of the living? When did I die and why is it the first thing I see when I come back to life is your disgraceful countenance? I must be in Hell," he grunts, and with that we know he is mentally normal again. A rude and fluent tongued Obi-wan is a healthy one.

"Cut the chatter Obi-wan, daylight is wasting. We're stuck on a planet of clay and squelch. Our ship is destroyed, no way to contact the Temple, no shelter, the bounty hunters are still on our tail, we're hopelessly lost and we have no clue what planet we're on or any of the vitals that go along with that," like whether or not it's late afternoon or early dawn.

Obi-wan takes this in serenely, a trait he must have learned from Master Jinn because he was _not _like that when we were younglings.

He stands and dusts himself off contemptuously, brows nettled together. "Master Qui-gon?" He asks. "He's out cold, and getting worse. We need to get him medical attention, and fast," Bant reports. Obi-wan produces a fierce scowl and lets out a curse that is in another language, but sounds extraordinarily like it would be colorful.

"Very well," he says irritably, shielding his eyes. His hand strays casually to his side, and I put my hands on my hips. "Don't touch it, idiot," I scold. "Your entire front is in shreds, Kenobi. We took out as many pieces as we could, but there still might be microscopic ones in there. _Leave it_," I order.

"Siri, I predict one day you will be a terrible menace to your Padawan and all of society in general," Obi-wan replies distantly, as he takes his hand away and touches his saber as if for comfort. "She will be," Garen agrees. "So, which way are we going?" He asks. "I can sense faint sentient emotions coming from that way," Obi-wan points in the distance, northwest.

"So we'll start with that. Quin-lan, scout ahead and see if you can pick up any tracks from trading parties. Garen, have you already studied the crash site for things we can use?" He asks. Garen nods. "Nothing. It's all scrapped," he explains.

"Wonderful. I have a bad feeling about that. Anyway, Siri you protect our rear, keep your senses sharp. If any bounty hunters are after us, you'll sense them," he tells me. I hate being ordered about, especially by Obi-wan, but there's no use in arguing when I don't have a better plan, so I nod grumpily to show him how much I am _reluctantly _granting him my submission.

He gets the picture. "Bant and I will lug Master Qui-gon. Garen, you are officially Her Highness's royal bodyguard. Don't leave her side," he says. The Wookie gives Garen a sweet smile, showing large fangs, and the color literally drains from his face. I smirk.

"Now wait a minute, who granted you the rank of master? Why do I have to do that?" Garen demands, then seems to notice his slip in polite decorum. "I mean," he begins again when the Princess growls. "Wouldn't Siri be better suited to do this? I can protect our rear," he quickly amends.

Obi-wan is not in a negotiating mood, though. "We'll let Her Highness decide. Which Jedi would you prefer as your bodyguard, Mi'lady?" he asks. I have to strain to keep my face neutral. Garen does the same.

A furred claw points directly at Garen, who glances murder at Obi-wan, but nods. "I shall strive to be worthy of your trust, your Highness," he promises, and he does mean it, as he bows to her gallantly. She looks quite amused.

I think I'm starting to like her, she has cheek, if not control. "It's official, then. Quin-lan, Siri, get going. Let's go Bant," he says. I want to hit him so bad. If the Princess were not there I would, and hard.

Maybe later. With that revenge set in mind, I stalk to the back of our group and strand myself in the force's power. Quin-lan moves ahead quickly, the force around him spreads about, howling and barking like hunting hounds.

His talent is tracking, after all, a rare and valuable endowment. He's still a useless mongrel. They all are, and once more, I consider expanding my horizons and striving to find some non-mongrel friends. Well, except Bant, I'll keep her.

And The Princess.


	3. Chapter 3

Nightfall:

~Quin-lan~

"AAARRRGGHHH!" This throaty, earsplitting call, native to the particular species of female we were dealing with told me, a sixteen-year-old Jedi Padawan, that she agrees with my unspoken sentiment that we need to settle down for the night, which is beginning to fall over the land like a carpet of darkness.

We won't be able to see anything soon, and blast it, it's getting _cold_. I sigh and look back. The others are at least a mile behind me, yet I still heard Her Highness. We have been working our way towards the town, now faintly outlined in the falling night, for _eight_ _hours_ now.

My leg muscles are cramping, sweat is soaked into my braids, and really, when I sit down, I feel no regret for my laziness. Kriff it all, we'll reach the town tomorrow, and if the bounty hunters want to show up, we'll sacrifice Siri as a replacement. I'm sure Master Gallia won't mind. She can go find herself a new padawan.

Yep, good plan, see what a genius I am? My talent is so wasted on these civilized snot-louts. I need new friends. Speaking of which, my comm. link chimes faintly. At least _those_ still work, even if some of the circuits smell a bit fried.

Mmm, fried Akuul meat sounds like the spot-on right now, or fried Calamari squid, or fried…Alright, alright Kenobi, I'm picking up. "I'm here," I answer, instead of whatever protocol demands we say in its stead.

I never do listen to protocol much. Tedious thing, that. "Do you see anything?" Obi-wan asks; he knows better than to try and get me to answer him traditionally.

"Yeah, buddy. The town is a few miles ahead of me. I can see the lights in the distance. We'll reach it by tomorrow," I report. I hear a sigh of relief. "Good. Where are you?" he asks, like he really cares.

If I came back without a leg, I believe Obi-wan would be the first to burst out laughing, followed closely by Garen, who worships the ground beneath his feet like a dog. "About a mile ahead of you guys, sitting under a clay dune. I swear, the messes you get us into Obi-wan," I scoff.

"Yes, yes, I'm a horrible friend, I get it. Garen has been sending me telepathic _waves_ of hatred all day. He's going to the Dark Side, Quin," I snicker. Kenobi may be a bombastic, stuck-up, self-important ass, but he_ is_ funny as heck, and in the worst of situations too.

"Good for him, he can mercilessly slaughter the Bounty Hunters. Have they shown up?" I ask. Stop playing around, Kenobi. We have a mission to complete. And you're the only one who didn't tune out for the briefing so we need you to keep your head in the game.

Even _my_ master tuned out; I know because we were talking about that awesome barbeque we had attended our last mission through our bond, and how the Zandoo ribs had been cooked just to perfection. Man, I really love my master. I swear I got lucky.

"I was about to ask you the same question. We know they're following us. I can sense them from here, but they have not made a move yet. Be wary, they may be planning something," yeah, sure, those knuckleheads are planning something? Now that's funny.

Besides, I'm too weary to be wary. "How many are there?" I ask. "Twelve." Brilliant, we can have another barbeque with that many people. I wonder if Zandoo wing tastes good _fried_. "I'll start a fire and wait for you laggards. Hurry up or I'm eating all the food," I tell him.

"Very funny. We're on our way," he says, and hangs up with the last word. He's always got to have the last word. He's a menace, I tell you. A good for nothing chosski. I oughta eat his rations of food and see how he likes _that._ Force, it's really cold now.

The blisters on my skin have settled down into shivering warts. I turn to the dry pack of clay dune next to me and snatch a few pieces out, contentedly humming. I love the outdoors, nature, the wild. True, this place is no tropical rainforest of vibrant forest country, but it is _outside_, and that's good enough for me. I sit down a little ways from the dune and set the clay down. Its dry, and crumbles easily. Good. Now I need…

Tearing off a few pieces of my tunic, I set the fabric (made flammable in some parts, just for this) into the Clay and set my lightsaber near it. The blaze sets afire so quickly I jump back to avoid getting my nose burned off.

Wouldn't that just give the others a hoot? On the bright side, the heat from the fire quickly drives away the frigid cold. I look up at the stars; tiny pinpoints that swirl lazily in space. Having spent quite some time seeing those things up close from space, I find the fact that they're far away a comfort_. Ah, nature_…

Well, enough star-seeing, if I really wanted all that I would point out the details of it to Obi-wan and listen to him yammer on. Time to see what dinner has in store for us. Rummaging through my supply belt, I find…Ration bars. Splendid. Tasteless, rubbery cylinders of small rubbish.

I mean, we're keepers of the kriffing peace, can't the Republic invest in some better provisions for us? Can't we petition the senate for better food content? I'm a growing boy. I need _food,_ not pellets fit for rabbits. I hope the others will bring me something better.

Right on time, I sense force sensitive's in the distance. And a Wookie. Good, she's exhausted, an exhausted Wookie is a quiet and not after certain human males Wookie.

She can have Kenobi or Muln, I don't really care, and hey, as Jedi we are trained to be physically flexible. But I plan on staying virgin for at least another year and a half. When I turn seventeen and half, well….

What my master does not know won't hurt him. It's for the greater good.

"Where's dinner?" Garen demands as they stagger into range. Her highness falls to her knees by the fire, forcing the ground to give a small shake which none of us comment on. "Look in your belt, buddy. Unless you brought something more, we're eating protein bars," I tell him, brushing my braids back with an accomplished flick of my head. "Ah, come _on,"_ Siri groans, coming up behind him. Her short blonde hair glows golden in the firelight.

Bant and Obi-wan carefully set down Master Qui-gon by the fire. Obi-wan, panting lightly, and his skin sunburned in several places, kneels by his master and places his forefingers on his temple.

I do not know what he is doing, but it looks complicated. Judging by the look on his face, a look that resembles a person who is constipated, it's probably something stupid.

"You know something? I want to petition the Senate for a vacation. What do you say? The entire Order can go to some nice, deserted tropical planet and party all morning, noon, and night," Garen dreams, as he flops unto his back next to the slumbering princess. Stars, she snores loud enough to be mistaken for a ship's engines starting up.

"It'd be nice, but I don't like the idea of petitioning the senate for something we rightfully _deserve._ I say we all just slip away at night, and when the senate calls," Siri shrugs, her long limbs stretch into the sky. If she were not so aggravating I might think she could be hot. If I closed one eye and squinted the other. And if I were upside down. Maybe.

"There'll be no one there to pick up. The galaxy will panic and scream. '_Who kidnapped the Order! Where have they gone?_'" She false panicked, plopping down on the ground next to me. "And in the end we'll be on Ragoon 4, livin' the dream. Yeah, sounds like fun," I agree, with a sigh.

"You all are a bunch of fantasists. Jedi exist to _serve_, not party," Bant scolds, as she settles down at Garen's side. "Oh, we will serve. We'll serve each other guddleberry cocktails and sweet margaritas!" Siri barks. We all chuckle softly and take out our ration bars.

In a life like we have; small moments of teasing like this are what makes the harder moments easier to bear. Shame on Bant for trying to ruin our fun.

"Don't pay them any heed, Bant. They're the sort of people in this galaxy who exist purely to make good citizens like us work harder to make up for their slack," Obi-wan tells her nonchalantly, as he walks over and fairly collapses to his knees. His azure eyes are sad and tired in the fire.

Sheesh, Kenobi, you look like an old man. You'd be the one who'd benefit from a vacation most of all. "Admit it, Obi-wan. You'd be the life of the party," I tell him, with a nudge. He glances at me dryly. "Beware my shrieks of merriment and unruliness," he replies, in his boring monologue tone.

"He'd be the one life we drowned to_ save_ the party," Garen snorts. "I feel so cherished Garen, thank you," Obi-wan replies; with a cocked eyebrow and small smile. "What are we going to do when we get into town?" Bant asks, interrupting our fun.

Blast her. We all look to Obi-wan for the answer. He gives a half-shrug. "Look for shelter, and then focus on contacting the Republic," he answers the obvious.

"What about our friends?" I jerk my head back to the way we came. We could all sense the Bounty Hunters. They weren't fooling anyone. "Hopefully they're too frightened or stupid to make a decent move. If they do, I'm sure we can improvise again," great, more improvising. I've already been forced to commit abduction and stealing, thank you. While crime _is_ my specialty, I don't like doing it all at one time. I need to space it out a little, you know?

"Your plans are valiant and inspired, Obi-wan," Siri says sarcastically. "You're a true Jedi. Tahl should be proud," ooh, that hits a mark. She must have forgotten. We don't speak of Tahl, ever.

It's just not a name we say anymore, not while he's around. Obi-wan cringes, but rebounds pretty fast. "I will take your insults into consideration when you can accurately spell your own name, Siri," he bites back, tranquilly.

"You're going to be waiting a long time, then," Garen observes. Siri, for once, remains silent. I look up at the stars. We're going to need our strength to trek the rest of the way in the morning.

Or, if Obi-wan has his way, at the crack of dawn. "Who wants first watch? Cause I'm not getting it this time," I tell them as I stand, stretching sore and aching limbs. Force, the things I do to keep these numbskulls safe.

"Because you did _so _well at it last time. I still have the scars from that ambush, Quin," Siri tells me. I grin at her. "Jedi do not lay blame, Tachi," I remind her diplomatically. After all, the Code does have its uses. Use number one: use against ignorant savages such as Siri.

"I'll take first watch if only to get some peace from you two and you're bickering," Obi-wan interrupts; uncouthly, as he stands up. "Besides, I need to keep an eye on Master Jinn," Well, I won't argue on those terms. Goodnight. "Wait a minute!" What now Bant? "You're injured too Obi-wan! Remember? You need more sleep than the rest of us," Bant chastises, large eyes stern and unyielding. Blast, she's gone healer police on us.

"Ah, he'll be fine Bant. Obi-wan runs on solar power," Garen says blatantly, this fact having been witnessed by a good majority of us already. "I don't care if he runs on _air power_. Someone else take first watch. He needs his rest," Obi-wan and I share a glance at the same time as Garen and Siri exchange one. Hmm…Then, we call on the force as one, and a pinch of force manipulation, a little shield hacking, and…

Bant collapses in a deep, deep sleep. I chuckle. We are such horrible friends.


	4. Chapter 4

~Bant~

"AAARRRGGHHH!" This throaty, earsplitting call, native to the particular species of female we were dealing with told me, a sixteen-year-old Jedi Healer Padawan, that naptime was over, and for good reason.

"Quin-lan you utter_ idiot_!" Siri hollers from above me, way above me, as her lightsaber flashes from hiding. I look around and let out a squeak. For some reason which I really do not want to think about, there are a giant worms above and around me.

They could easily be twelve feet long and were as wide as a ship, for crying out loud. And one of them was trying to devour Siri.

I scramble to my feet and dodge out of the way of a wide circular mouth, where thousands of tiny pincers clack and hiss at me from inside the mouth, ready to aid in stuffing me down a slimy throat.

I shudder, heart thumping madly and voice catching in my throat. I can't even scream. The worm circles around, sightless face whipping back and forth. How can it see me?

I don't want to know. I turn and run the other way, searching for someone with an actual lightsaber who could help. Her royal highness is also running… Back and forth like a twit.

Arms flailing and mouth wide open to reveal sharp canines that could have been helpful if her mouth were not currently occupied screaming out the eardrums of anything nearby. I would smile if I wasn't so scared. How do people deal with this?

I shriek and duck another attack. Where is everyone? "Wow! Wow!" Well, there's Garen, also in the grasp of the worm. The worm has twisted its body around him like a snake, slowly constricting and shaking.

I freeze in place, horrified as its mouth comes steadily closer to his face. "Garen!" Then I launch myself at it. No one is getting eaten tonight!

Grabbing unto a thick midsection, or tail, or front, whichever seems more heroic right now, I sink my teeth into the flesh. Not many people know this, but Mon Calamari _do _have teeth, they are just retractable teeth, and they are razor-sharp.

I remember touching one of them when I was a youngling, barely even a skimming the point, and my finger started bleeding. So this worm doesn't stand a…Wait, I'm biting a _worm_?

My prey lets out a roar of agony and I hear a thump as Garen drops to the ground. I jump back so quickly I trip over my feet. I just bit a worm, a slimy, thick skinned worm. Now purple blood is seeping out of the skin where you can still see my bite mark. I can taste the sour, bitter stuff in my mouth! Gross! Ugh, I shudder and wipe at my tongue hurriedly. Get the taste out, get the taste out, please _just get it out…_

_ "_Bant!" Suddenly, the person I just bit a worm in order to save tackles me down and we go skidding across the clay, smothering our clothes in worm blood and clay dust.

"Garen!" I try to yell, but it comes out as more of squeak. I look back at the spot we were in a minute ago and see a giant tail has thoroughly smashed the clay in tighter. I gulp.

I like being _un_-smashed, thank you very much. Force, how glad I am I'm only a healer. I could never do craziness like this every day. You have to be a strange sort of stupid to be a Jedi, I think.

Before I can say anymore, he is up again, blue saber cocked into defensive style. "Bant, protect Master Jinn!" he orders. Fine with me. I was tired of trying to eat worm anyway.

I scramble to my feet and make a dash towards Master Jinn's force signature. Obi-wan is standing over his mentor like some Warrior God, blue eyes fierce and challenging, the force sparking around him like the air sparks before a lightning storm. He is lightning fast. He cuts jagged edges into the worms as he ducks, flips and twists like a of trapeze flyer.

I frown. He does not have to be so violent with it, that poor worm doesn't need that. He's only being a predator after all. Predators hunt, so what? Obi should be nicer to his enemies. Harrumphing at this, I run to Master Qui-gon and kneel beside him.

All the commotion has woken the poor man. His eyes are fluttering, and he's muttering insistently. I feel his forehead. His fever is raging.

The dead worm collapses next to me, and the ground throws me some centimeters into the air. I gasp lightly and hold Master Qui-gon down. He shouldn't be jostled too much! Ugh, blasted people! I need new friends. Gentle friends.

Another thump indicates that the last worm has fallen. I look up. Siri is standing a ways to the side, saber still half puncturing the worm, gasping for breath. Quin-lan has straddled one of the things like he was trying to ride it, his saber splashed with purple blood and extinguished for now.

Garen is standing in between two dead bodies, hands on his hips while he surveys the damage done to our temporary camp. Obi-wan is still standing above Master Jinn and me, lips screwed into displeasure. "So uncivilized," he mutters as his blade flicks back into its appointed cave.

"Where's The Princess?" Siri gasps out. We all look around. She is, like a comedian, still running back and forth screaming, arms flailing. The picture is so funny I laugh. Or maybe I'm hysterical.

Nothing this adventuresome has ever happened to me before, and really, I can't wait to get back to civilization. "Someone calm her down please," Obi-wan calls. He looks down at me as Siri and Quin-lan go to handle that. "How is he?" he asks. "We need to get him out of here, Obi. His fever is growing worse," I explain. He nods and stands.

"Well, since we can see these plains aren't safe," he points at the gaping holes the worms have left in the clay, their entrances into our camp. "I say we start moving now," he turns and picks up one side of Master Jinn's stretcher. I notice he does not mention that the Jedi Master is getting sicker. Oh, Obi, why do you always try to shoulder everything alone? The others nod and move forward.

"What were those things anyway?" Siri asks, nudging one of those things with her toe. "I don't know, but they taste disgusting," I tell them knowingly. The other stare at me, dumbstruck. Garen grins. He's so mean sometimes.

"Yeah. Thanks for the save Bant," oh. Well, I don't regret it so much now. But I still hate the sour tang of worm in my mouth. Force, what a story to tell my master.

So far I have been kidnapped, chased by bounty hunters, flown in a suicide ship, dressed a naked Jedi master, crashed on a mysterious planet of clay, trekked in scorching heat, and now tasted a giant worm.

I _seriously _need new friends.

"I don't know either. Your Highness, we have to go now," Obi-wan says to our charge, who is currently sitting on the ground curled into a ball. Poor thing. She's terrified and tired, even if she is a twit.

I kneel beside her and put a hand on her furry back. "It's okay," I coo. "It's alright; there'll be no more worms. Don't worry, soon we'll be in town and then we'll be able to rest," I hope anyway. She looks up at me with eyes brimming with tears.

She really is very tired and scared. I can feel it in the force. She is only a child, like us, but she isn't used to things this way, just like I'm not. I wonder why I haven't succumbed to despair and fear yet.

"Hey Kenobi, you think if we fry these things they'll taste better?" Oh. Right. I'm friends with Quin-lan. I must have gone mad years ago already.

The Princess whimpers and I pat her shoulder. "Come on," I stand and offer her my hand. "We don't have so long to go now, do we Obi?" He frowns at me. "Actually, Bant, we do. We have…Ow!" Good job, Siri, someone needed to hit him.

I'm trying to calm the Princess down and he goes into specifics. I wonder if he'll ever get a Padawan, and if he does whether he'll scare the poor child to death every time they get into a tight spot.

You're supposed to_ lie_, you silly boy. "Never mind," he grumbles, rubbing his no doubt sore arm. "We'll be there quite shortly, yes. But only if we keep moving _now_," he assures our host, who nods eagerly and grabs my hand. Her hands are surprisingly soft and warm.

"Good. Siri, you take rear again, and take Quin-lan with you or I shall surely go mad. Garen- let Bant have a break. Pick up the other side of the stretcher, will you?" The others, grumbling, do as he says. The Princess, now under my protection apparently, squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. This will be a long trip, but_ together_, we can make it through.


	5. Chapter 5

Daybreak:

~Obi-wan~

"AAARRRGGHHH!" This throaty, earsplitting call, native to the particular species of female we were dealing with told me, a sixteen-year-old Jedi Padawan, that something has caught her fancy. I groan and peer out the window behind me. I can see her there, tugging at Bant's hand persistently and pointing excitedly to a vendor on the side of the street.

This bustling market town reminds me rather unpleasantly of Tatooine, only the people are friendlier than those born on Hutt world's. Shops and squares of every variety adorn the place. This world, thankfully, is as diverse as a watering hole.

Dozens of species fill the streets; their scuffed boots all packed with clay, like mine. My entire body is covered with clay dust, especially my front side, which stings as if people are slowly digging a thousand needles into my stomach and chest.

Due to this diversity, no one stops to stare at the Wookie currently pointing at the side stall where delicious pieces of roasting meat hang from the ceiling enticingly.

I recognize some dishes commonly seen on her home world. My stomach rumbles lowly, growling out its disagreement to my current deprivation.

I am hungry too; the ration bars we devoured last night are not made to fill you up, and besides, we spent the rest of that gratifying night trekking across an expanse of clay after fighting giant worm-like creatures.

We are all ravished. Though, we are also Jedi, and penniless because of it.

"I'm sorry sir but there are no slave victim shelters within this town," the droid comes back, small, round eyes narrowing at me. I have been at this for a good hour now. Though, I doubt the droid is any more tired than I am at the moment. I am very tempted to sigh.

"Are there _any _complimentary shelter stations here?" I inquire, striving to keep my tone light. Details obviously were useless. The droid does not even turn around to check, so eager is he to get rid of my presence.

I swear, they're making our non-sentient friends with just a few too many independent settings nowadays, which I personally call _loose wires._

"None sir. Would you like a hotel?" I would love one. A _complimentary_ one, but that is obviously out of the picture. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. This town not only has no shelter for us but no medical centers either. Not a single one, complementary or not. It is a marketing and trading town, nothing more, and one of the smallest for its technically medium size.

I wonder if there are any larger towns nearby. But no, however nearby it is, unless it is right next to us and I've just gone blind, we can go no further without a short rest and some food. My gut clenches. Master Qui-gon is getting worse. I can feel him drifting away through our bond every second. After Tahl, I just don't know if I would be able to bear…

It does not matter. Qui-gon is _not_ going to die. I'll find a way to get us out of this mess one way or another. I have too, and I always do what I must. Our first dilemma is that we need sustenance. I smile, suddenly inspired.

I remember my friends-and even Qui-gon, sometimes-teasing me about the amount of reading I would finish in a night, and it was usually fiction at that. You'd be shocked at how much you can learn from fiction. Knowledge is everywhere, in everything. Tahl never teased me; she knew.

"Tell me one last thing," the droid has his back turned, obviously intending for our business have finished, but I'm afraid my friend that our business will not be done until I _say_ it is done, and not your programming. "Are there any gambling taverns or casinos about?" I ask.

"Yes, several," The droid replies, sounding against all odds as if he is relieved I have asked a simple question. "Could you direct me to some of them, please?" Master Windu has told me I am a fabulous hand at Sabbacc.

A few minutes later, I have memorized all the data I need, and I quickly jog out to my friends, sitting on the steps outside of the directory boredily. "Well?" Quin-lan gasps, as he jumps to his feet. "No shelter stations, but I do have a way to get us some money," I say hurriedly.

The sun has been up less than three hours. I noticed yesterday the days were thirty-two hours long here. So, I still have plenty of time. "How?" Siri scoffs. She despises me, she always has.

"Never mind that now. I need you to keep an eye out for the bounty hunters," who have so forth vanished. We can no longer feel them trailing us in the force, and that is worrying. "Scout out the area for any hiding places or ambush spots, and then meet me here by sunset," I order. "What? You want us to do_ more_ reconnaissance while we're tired and hungry?" Garen squeaks, as if I am committing a crime against the force itself.

"No, Garen, I want you do more reconnaissance while you're tired, hungry and keeping an eye on Master Qui-gon and the Princess. Don't worry, I'll have us enough money to buy the National Bank of Courascant by this afternoon. Trust me," I am aware that this is the second time I have said that, and admittedly those two words are what got us stranded here in the first place, but granted those two words are also while we're alive.

The others glare at me, and I sense mutiny starting to form in the ranks. I hold my ground, staring them steadily in the eye. I have just as much-if not more-to lose if I do not succeed in this.

Master Qui-gon does not have much more_ tim_e, it is a fickle thing right now. "You'd better be right about this, Obi,"' Garen, once more my loyal friend, grouses.

"I promise you may stone me if I am wrong," for I will never forgive myself, either. "Now get going," I admit I do sound a little too authoritative as I say it, but you have to have a strict and guiding hand with_ my_ sort of friends. Speaking of which, maybe it's about time I got some new ones._ Quiet_ ones.

The others, grumbling, stand and take Master Qui-gon's stretcher. The Princess casts me an inquisitive glance, but she is the only one not complaining. I grab Bant's arm as they walk away.

"Take care of him, Bant," she does not need specifications, unlike that stupid droid. She nods; giant eyes more empathetic than any field Jedi, who has seen too much horror to remain untouched forever. Even I have lost what is left of my innocence.

"May the force be with you, Obi," but stars above, that saying is comforting right now. Just the familiarity of it is consoling, the meaning behind the meaning, the wisdom in those words thousands of years older than me. I can almost hear our ancestor's voices in Bant's, speaking to me as well.

Somewhere in those masses of voices is Tahl's, chiming like a bird's clarion call. I draw strength from it. I release her arm and nod, cordially. We are Jedi, and I should not have given into sentiment, but I have, and Bant will say nothing more. She is a good friend.

She follows the others as they march through the crowd, and I turn the other way, following the droid's instructions. Seconds later, I am in the dimly lit cavern of "Swashbuckling station" truly, that is its name. It is ridiculous, I agree. Someday I hope to rid the galaxy of such absurdity; honestly, the owner could not have come up with at least something a _bit _more civilized?

But my mission is not to inspire creative and civilized names for gambling grottos. My mission is to find money. I look around at the small wooden tables where a variety of men and women of every species gamble away their fortunes. I bite my bottom lip; looking for a partner to play in at least one game I am suitably well-versed. Illegal board and card games are not my expertise, in truth. That's Qui-gon's job.

I stretch out with the force, trying to find something…Well, maybe not something, but_ someone_. I open my eyes again and follow the trail left for me by the force. After all, it does work in mysterious ways, and I am so forth out of options. I find my way to the very back, in a secluded berth covered by a rustling curtain, where one light bulb sways over a short and narrow wooden table.

An older rodian male pushes past me, cursing. "He tricked me somehow. He cheated without cheating, the scoundrel," he mutters as he goes. He suddenly, turns, seeming to see my staring, and gestures inside.

"Don't play with _him_, boy," he sneers. "Unless you want to lose every credit to hand. He cheats, I tell ya, I don't know how, but he does," ah, an astute swindler. He sounds like a kindred spirit to me. I peek my head back in.

And raise my brows at the human male sitting at the small table, a thin black cloak resting on his shoulders and pooling at his feet, still studying the Sabbacc board. He looks no older than thirty-five years of age.

Chestnut hair, deep green eyes that seem almost foamy, and a cheerful face that hints at inner amusement, a private joke of some sort. It does not escape me that to someone who did not know better we could be related. A pinch of apprehension seizes me for no good reason. Might we be?

Qui-gon does not have the time for me to figure it out. I quickly grab my saber and stuff it into the back of my shirt. Jedi clothing come slightly baggy for a reason. If I just puff my chest out a bit, curve my spine inwards, yes, I can create a little nook for my saber right there between spine and tunic hind, resting casually on my backside. It is uncomfortable and awkward to say the least, but I cannot afford to be picky.

I clear my throat and the human looks up. He smiles upon seeing me and waves a friendly hand. I sense no ill will from him in the force. "I heard I might find some good competition here?" I inquire. "That depends upon your own skill level my friend. My, aren't you young? I was not aware boys your age still played a game like this," he says, as I push the curtain aside and take a seat.

The light above us sways gently. It is comfortably warm in here. It smells of tea and real paper pages, from actual _books,_ inside the little cave he has assembled, and by instinct I relax. This nook reminds me of Master Windu's quarters actually. I have been inside once, and it was just as warm and smelled like the exact same tea.

"I grew up with this game," I explain. He nods. "As did I. Sabbacc is good for the mind," he pushes a button and the cybernetic playing field is constructed. "Choose a monster, stranger. I would ask your name, but it would be indecorous to ask yours when I do not intend to offer mine," I raise my brows at that, but I am too busy studying the playing field to inquire. Besides, curiosity is not as strong as naturally bred good manners.

"Stranger could be a name," I suggest lightly. He chuckles. "Indeed. Hmm, I always did try to convince my mother to rename me Ben," I have to smile; he sounds so cheery about it. "Is there any particular reason?" I ask. "Oh, not really. Ben does mean selfless in several languages, but I like the ring of it, too," it does have a nice ring to it.

I make the first move and sit back, examining my partner's face. He studies my move for a moment, eyes widening. "You are a shrewd youngster, aren't you? Many a man would have forfeited right away with a move like that," yes, well, many a man does not include the numerous Knights, Padawan's and Master's I have played since infanthood.

"Yet I can rise to the occasion! Tell me," he moved his own piece, and I leaned forward. He _was_ good. He was trying to trap me. Well, two could play at trapping. And I could not afford to suffer defeat, not only did I have no money to lose, but no time.

"If you could change your name, what name would you change it too?" Well, _that's _an odd question. Usually you would ask a person about their family, their livelihoods, their jobs, their backgrounds, but no.

He asked me about things that are not, yet matter more than things that are.

I have to mull it over at the same time as I move my piece, effortlessly. Thank you Master Yoda. "Maurus," I respond after a moment. "Maurus? Never heard that one before. What does it mean? Or do you merely like the ring of it?" He leans in, hand cupping his chin, green eyes narrowing.

"Maurus means sacrifice," I tell him. "Sacrifice? Don't tell me you wish to have someone spear out your heart and offer it to some God," he snickers. I shake my head. Though, Siri, Quin-lan and Qui-gon might consent to it.

Knowing them, they'd be the ones holding me down while the executioner stands over me. I can almost see the knife glinting on its way down to my chest cavity, and it inspires a faint snicker for some reason. Either I've gone mad or I'm so tired I'd think a crying child was funny. What a morbid thought, I really need to stop doing that to myself.

"Not particularly. I would like to give myself though, to some cause. To be able to fight for it…_Live _for it," I say as he moves a piece, I move a piece then too. "Your wish is to surrender your entire self, in other words," Ben declares grimly. "Giving your life for something or someone is righteous, but giving your life _to_ that thing is pure madness. Unspeakable, honorable madness," sounds like my life, good fellow. "Yes," I agree.

"You want to make the ultimate sacrifice then," he states. I shake my head. "No," I state, calmly. It is not the act of doing but giving. Giving heart, soul, mind and body to this something._ Giving_ your life, not acting on behalf of it. And being a gift worth giving.

"I want to _be_ the ultimate sacrifice," that catches his eye. He sits up, and stares at me closely. I return the gaze, serenely. Then, with a chuckle, he grins and looks back down. "Well said, Master Jedi," he agrees. A faint sense of panic and alarm shoots through me, though I disguise it as confusion. "I…"

"Well said. I hope you don't mind that I've won," I look down, flabbergasted, at the board. What…? Lo and behold, he has won, he has unwittingly, undoubtedly, impossibly beat me _hard._  
How did he do that?!

"How…?" I gasp, confused, startled, alarmed, and faintly irritated. I _hate _losing at any activity, and especially to some stranger in a gambling pub called the _Swashbuckling Station._ He grins, and his force signature wafts out from hiding. My mouth nearly drops. He is force sensitive! And extremely _strong_ in the force as well.

I look down, and realize, to my utter confounded_ bewilderment_, that there is a lightsaber glinting at me from beneath his cloak. "I left the Order long ago," says the mysterious man. "But it is good to see one of my brethren again. Another round?" He gestures to the board, smiling at my dumbstruck expression. I shake my head slowly. How in the galaxy…?

The force works in mysterious ways, I suppose. I can only nod. "I…I mean…I would be honored, master," I gasp, staring at him with new admiration. He chuckles and clears the playing table. "I am no longer a master Padawan. Call me Mikra Dray, it is my birth name anyway," I nod, and we continue this game.

Wait until I tell Master!


	6. Chapter 6

Nightfall:

~Garen~

"AAARRRGGHHH!" This throaty, earsplitting call, native to the particular species of female we were dealing with told me, a sixteen-year-old Jedi Padawan, why exactly my life sucks right now. I have to restrain the urge to scream at her royal highness to _shut up_ _please_.

My head is killing me. After a full day of reconnaissance in the hot and merciless sun on an empty and already growling stomach, my reserves of patience and humility are very low.

Not as low as Master Jinn's would be at this time though, his skin is clammy and pale, his breathing fitful. I'm starting to worry about him. "Where is Obi-wan?" Siri snaps at me, like I have some sort of tracking device on him, which I use to follow the boy about somehow.

"How am I supposed to know?" I snap back. Force, I'm just as tired as she is, and in no mood for her impoliteness. The streets are virtually empty by now, the stands closed and locked up. Dusk has started to fall on the clay dunes beyond the city gates, and bluish-black shadows hang on the buildings and speeders. I sigh and look up. It's getting cold again.

Obi-wan, where are you?

"You know what I want right now?" Quin-lan groans from the step below me, where he is sprawled out like a dying desert survivor. "I want fried flying Zandoo wing," he says softly. "Quin-lan…"

"With sugary elspeth sauce," ah, come on Quin-lan I'm starving. Don't give me the image, please. "And fried Mon Calamari squid from the eastern regions," Bant adds to my torment. "With spicy red beans from Dantooine," Siri moans.

I put my head in my hands. Force, why? The Princess adds another thing, which none of us can understand, but it is clear from her tone that whatever it is, it tastes _awesome._ My mouth begins to water.

"Come on, guys, don't torture me like this. Beat me over the head instead," I plead. "Okay!" a female voice says eagerly. Siri smacks me behind the head hard enough to make me go tumbling down the few steep steps to the clay dirt.

"Hey!" I squeak as the others chuckle and snicker. I rub the back of my bruised head. "What was that for?" I demand, swiveling around in the clay. Siri smirks at me and shrugs. "You asked for it," she points out. I open my mouth, but really, I can't argue with that.

After all, I know Siri, and I'm usually smart enough to know that her first thought, naturally, would be to oblige me, submissive little thing that she is. Growing up with someone since infancy does that. But blast I'm tired.

"Obi!" Bant suddenly gasps, surging to her feet. I look over to see a shadow running towards us. I sit up immediately, ready for trouble. "Kenobi! Where in the kriffing galaxy do you think you've been?" I demand, uncaring completely of the Princess at our sides.

She agrees with me, I can sense it. And I wouldn't care if she did not. I'm so hungry part of me is considering tearing off Obi-wan's ear and devouring it in compensation for his tardiness. He stops before us, hands on his knees as he gasps for breath.

"Your injury, Obi!" Bant protests and I blink. Blast it I forgot that he is injured. I open my mouth but he waves the question away before I ask it. "Fine," he wheezes out. "I found…An ally," he explains, hugging his side, which must be causing him all sorts of misery.

He waves us in the direction he came from. "Does he have food?" Quin-lan asks impatiently. Obi-wan nods. "Yes. And he… Can help…Master Jinn…Hurry," with those two very convincing facts in mind, Quin-lan and I vault ourselves to pick up Master Jinn's stretcher and follow Obi-wan through town.

With the setting sun on our backs, we finally slip to a small cavern called the…_Swashbuckling station_? What the heck? "I know," Obi-wan agrees, nose wrinkling at the sign. "I thought it was stupid too," stupid is right. "Your friend lives in here?" Siri asks, eyes narrowing like a cat's. "Obi," Bant adds, putting her hands on her hips and staring at Obi-wan sternly.

"Is this friend a criminal?" She demands. I am wondering the same thing myself. Obi-wan suddenly smiles, though, and some of the old light is in his eyes again. "That depends upon your point of view," he says mysteriously.

Then, with the last word again, he turns and walks into the abandoned gambling hostelry. We follow him warily. He leads us to the back, where a curtain is drawn over a specific booth.

I wrinkle my nose. Do I smell tea and books?

"It reminds me of Master Windu's quarters," Siri says impulsively, and I turn to her. "That was my first thought," Obi-wan agrees as he kneels by the Sabbacc table sitting in the middle of the small space. He reaches down and starts fidgeting with his hands and the ground that make me wonder if he has really gone off the edge. What will he do next? I hope it has something to do with eating each other. Wait, did I just think that? Force, I'm glad my master is not here.

"Obi-wan…" Quin-lan begins, but then we hear the clack of a picked lock. Obi-wan smiles at us over his shoulder, bracing one hand on the side of the table. With practiced strength, he pops the entire table up as if it's a cup top. A metal ladder leads down into a hazy glow of lights below. The smell of more boiling tea and spearmint meat wafts up to us. I could weep with joy.

The Princess grabs Obi-wan in a bone-shattering hug and hangs on a little_ too_ tightly and a little _too _long for appropriate occasion, but we let her. That is what he gets for being late and trying to starve us. "Well," Obi-wan gasps when she releases him, batting long eyelashes in his direction. Siri and Bant cross their arms in unison while Quin-lan and I smile deviously.

I think _these_ two will get to share a room in whatever place we are going.

"Your Highness, would you carry Master Jinn please? Thank you. Careful, careful! There we are. Good. Now, shall we?" Obi-wan gestures below. We nod and speedily file down the ladder. I drop to the bottom, helping Bant down the last few feet. Warily, I survey the small living quarters. They are much more homely than anything I have ever seen.

The metal walls are painted a mellow light lavender color. A small round wooden table sits to our left, next to the small kitchen area where I can smell other delicious spices at work. To our right two couches rest around a holo-screen, and a small lamp light the area faintly. A dark hall behind the holo-screen extends elsewhere.

I notice a large bookcase sitting behind the couches, where actual books are stored, and not data pads or chips. I gawk at the ancient artifacts. Small pieces of machinery are everywhere, on the walls and…Stars, I can even sense them lurking in each crevice, like little spies.

It's sort of creepy. The Princess sets Master Qui-gon down on his stretcher again, and I notice he looks even paler than he had before. Obi-wan notices too, he falls on his knees and puts a hand on Qui-gon's chest. "Dray?"He calls to thin air.

"Greetings," comes the curious response from the dark hall, where a brown-haired man suddenly steps into the light, green eyes sparkling. I jump, lightsaber already in hand. Siri and Quin-lan are in a defensive circle around Master Qui-gon and the Princess, too.

Yet our heroism only gains a small laugh from Obi kriffing Kenobi and a smile from the stranger. My eyes travel him up and down inquiringly, yet he displays no hostility.

Clipped to a utility belt around his waist is a….A _lightsaber?_ The Princess makes a surprised grunt from behind us. I gawp with the others. He had been hiding his force signature. What is a Jedi doing _here?_

Obi-wan stands and smirks at our faces, which I concede may be a very funny matter. "Dray, these are my fellow Padawans, Garen, Bant, Siri, and Quin-lan. And her royal Highness Princess Carandrella," we all deactivate our weapons, and manage stiff bows, startled-and horrified - to find our host another Jedi. He chuckles good-naturedly.

"No need to bow, my friends. I left the order long ago, I am no longer your superior, but rather your lesser. Being a regular citizen does have its disadvantages I'm afraid," he clucks at us, with sparkling eyes that remind me of someone else's…

"The lives you saved and your accomplishments as a Jedi did not leave the Order with you," Obi-wan informs him firmly. "We bow out of respect, not because of any_ title_," force, Obi, you are still rational enough to give orations? What, did you already confiscate and eat the poor man's boots? You should have saved some for me.

Dray smiles at him appreciatively. You're always such a suck-up, Kenobi. Good. Keep doing that, he might give us more food for it. "I believe we'd better halt all further introductions for after dinner. You children look purely famished," he notices.

We all nod eagerly and he nods towards the kitchen. "Dinner is ready. It has been quite some time since I have had this many guests. My cooking skills are not the _best_, but I know you aren't picky," as hungry as we are? Picky is the last thing on our lists, master. A minute ago I wanted to eat my best friend's ear, how's that for loyalty and restraint?

Striving to remain dignified and controlled, opposed to starving and barbarous, we walk to the table and neatly sit down before we all begin distributing the food about politely. After all, we need to make a good impression on the Order.

Obi-wan and Dray use the force to pick up Qui-gon's stretcher and ease it into the back. Bant opens her mouth and starts to stand up; she obviously intends to help. "No worries, Bant. We can handle it," Obi-wan calls, and Bant relaxes again.

I can tell she's tired. I've been in this situation countless times before. Exhausted, hungry, anxious…So many times that it now seems like common ritual; and an easy enough private joke. Yet Bant is not used to it, and I feel a tendril of respect and admiration grow in me for her. I had not been aware Bant was so tough.

And that she could _eat _so much. Force, she'll empty the table if I don't grab some more soon. And the princess is not feeling sparing either. I glance at my own plate, and then back at the hall, where Obi-wan and Dray have vanished with Qui-gon. Well, since I don't have to put on a show of civility for either of them, and the Princess seems not to know of the word…

I eat like a ravenous, empty-minded, ignorant beast.


	7. Chapter 7

~Siri~

"Aaarrrggghhh," this time, the roar is a soft mumble of almost content. When Master Dray said his cooking was not the best, he was lying. I have never tasted anything so wonderful in all my years, and I've eaten many things, truly. Sighing, I finally slow down enough to take a long sip of the cold water sitting beside my plate.

I look around at the small table, where the giant platefuls of food that were left for us have been nearly emptied. For a man who does not have visitors very often, he sure does have surmount of delicious food lying about. I twist my lips, suspicious.

How do we know we can trust this man? He may be a former Jedi, but the word_ former_ sticks to mind. As if he heard my thoughts, Obi-wan arrives from the back, eyes sunken in with tiredness. He looks like a corpse, for force sakes. Dray does not follow, and I cock my head curiously.

Sighing heavily, Obi-wan plops down into the seat across from me, next to Bant, and glances around. "You actually left some for me? I'm shocked. I thought I'd be thrown the scraps," he observes jokingly. "Have you already eaten?" Garen inquires; he is staring at the food as if he sincerely hopes Obi-wan has.

I, too, am still a bit hungry, and besides, we've been working all day while Kenobi has been making suspicious friends in stupidly named taverns. Who knows what sort of tomfoolery he has been up too? "No," blast it, no leftovers for us.

Indeed, the selfish Gundark wastes no time in shoveling the remainders back unto his own plate. "So," Garen begins, since we are currently alone and the primary dissatisfaction has been satisfactorily righted. "What's our next move?" Not what I would have asked, but a valid question all the same.

Obi-wan start's his own meal with the poise and conduct of a king. I roll my eyes. He is such a spoiled little hobgoblin sometimes; whatever will we do with him? "First, a report," he says, popping a meatball into his mouth.

"Have you seen any sign of the bounty hunters?" of course he would want our report to begin with. We can't ask the questions first, no, he's the commander. Honestly, who voted him leader anyway? I want a recount.

"No sign of em' anywhere, buddy," Quin-lan tells him. "We could faintly sense that they're here in the city with us, but nothing more. And we did find several spots where we could hide from their wrath," Bant says cheerily.

"Or where we could ambush them in ours," I add what the rest of us are thinking. Bant and the Princess go pale. Or, I think the Princess went pale. It's sort of hard to tell when her entire face is covered by fur. Maybe it is just the way the light reflects off her fur. Obi-wan nods.

"Alright then. I had hoped to arrest the bounty hunters, but if they have given up the chase there's nothing we can do," he says. "But what about the people here? What if the bounty hunters hurt them?" Bant demands, eyes growing wide.

I sigh and look at Kenobi, who looks thoughtful. Bant isn't a field Jedi. And she's so dang compassionate this'll break her heart.

Good thing Kenobi is here to explain or else my answer would have been along the lines of: _"then their just gonna have to die,"_ because I need a kriffing bath. I have clay dust in every crevice my body has to offer.

Though, Obi-wan's answer is just as unhelpful. "It is out of our hands Bant," he says after a moment. "There's nothing more we can do but finish our mission," I roll my eyes. Way to go simple, hero.

Bant looks dejected but nods anyway. "Dray has a long range communicator, but it's broken. I've seen it, it's a wreck. I assured him Garen and Quin-lan could fix it," this inspires cocked eyebrows from the boys.

Suck it up, men, we are refugees here, and we need that thingamawinger fixed. Force knows I cannot even fix a toaster, and the only thing Bant can fix is broken bones. I don't even want to think about the Princess's idea of _fixing._

"Once you do that Dray has contacts in the Naboo government. We could contact them, call for help and pick-up, and once on Naboo we'll find a way back to your home planet," he assures the Princess with a nod.

She gives him a flirtatious smile, which he hurriedly ignores. Good boy, Kenobi, because if some girl suddenly ends up pregnant one night because of you, let me _promise_ you that Master Jinn will _not _be the only one after your hide.

"About Dray," I begin politely, quietly. "How do we know we can trust him?" I inquire. "He used to be a Jedi, Tachi," Quin-lan points out; he sounds confused. "_Used _to be," I point out.

"And besides, for someone who doesn't have guests around a lot, he sure did have a great deal of food just lying about. And what is he doing living underneath a tavern? Doesn't that seem just a little strange to you? How'd you meet him Kenobi?" Obi-wan is staring at me as if he suspects I'm drunk, but answers. "He beat me in Sabbacc," he answers slowly.

"Nope," Garen bursts out, eyes growing wide. "I don't like this. Anyone who can beat you in Sabbacc has to have a double life or something. It takes Master Yoda a good ten minutes, and he is _Yoda_. How long did it take Dray?" Obi-wan still looks dubious. "Three minutes," he snorts.

Bant sits straight up, eyes wide, and Quin-lan leans back, picking at his teeth with his knife thoughtfully. "It is a little suspicious," he confides. "He's back there with Master Jinn?" Bant inquires, already on her feet and ready to defend her patient tooth and claw. Obi-wan waves her back down, chuckling quietly.

"Yes, and don't worry. I'd be able to sense if he'd laid a hand on Qui-gon hurtfully. You all have good-if not paranoid-points, but the Force led me to Dray. The _Light_ Side of the force," he tells us comfortingly. I am by no means comforted.

"The Force works in mysterious ways," I point out reasonably. "The Light is truth and the truth never lies," Obi-wan quotes back, cheerfully. I know I can't win a game of Jedi aphorisms with_ him_.

"I don't know Obi-wan, a lot of people think the truth of the matter is that you're the perfect Padawan… And we all know _that's_ a lie," I grunt. The others chuckle.

Obi-wan glares, pouting. Hey, don't look at me that way, Kenobi, you know it's true. You are the most perfectly defective person this galaxy has ever seen. No wonder Chun hated you. "Whatever. I still think you all are being paranoid. Do you sense any danger from Dray?" he asks. "No," we all reply. After all, there is no use in lying, and especially not to Obi-wan.

He's the type of person you can't help but trust, the sort of person you can't lie to because he demands the truth in his every gesture, every look, every smile. I swear he's a vassal of truth here to scrape the habit of lying out of our bones, and it's extremely irritating.

"Then this case is settled," his food finished, he stands. I open my mouth to continue my case but at that moment, ex-Jedi Dray conveniently decides to walk back into the room. He's muttering under his breath. I exchange a glance with Quin-lan. Oh, no, the mutterers are always the crazies.

"His injuries are severe. It's a miracle he's survived this long," Dray tells us, and then notices the table. "Force! How long ago did you all eat? No, don't tell me, I remember the grim truth all too well. Well, I hope you're satisfied," he says, he looks up and my suspicion eases a bit.

He has such a bright look in his emerald eyes, that cheerful sort of '_I've seen everything so I think everything is wonderful and amusing'_ sort of look Yoda gives me whenever I walk past.

Then again, it's usually the nice ones that come up with the worst evil schemes. Charisma picks no sides; it is neither light nor dark but works for whoever asks for it. I am very charming too, despite words to the contrary.

"Yes, master, thank you," Garen says- his courtesy is impeccable. "Where's that broken transmitter you need fixing up?" Quin-lan asks, his rough tone maintained but dimmed. "Back here with the rest of the stuff. You will find your rooms back here as well," Dray says as he turns, leading us down the desolate and dark hall.

"Why_ did_ you leave the order, Dray?" Bant asks, sweet and innocent as ever. Her wide eyes survey the dozens of pictures on the walls, some of people, more of landscapes. I, too, was curious about that.

Why would anyone_ leave_ the Order? The life of a Jedi is dangerous, turbulent, grueling, strict, but in my opinion it's one of the greatest lives you could ever hope to live. Danger aside, service is what I was born to do. It is what I am. And the danger is just a fun addition.

Dray smiles. "I don't think I left the Order, young one. Then again, it is a point of view. Jedi are committed to service, yes?" We nod. It is in our minds, our hearts, our souls. I glance at Obi-wan…And many time's it will _break_ our hearts, minds, and souls. You'd better not break Kenobi. Not yet. Wait until later, when I like you less.

"Well, I_ am_ still serving, just in a different way. My entire career as a Jedi I was devoted to science. To answers, to problems, to helping people past these with science," he shrugs, and gives us sheepish smile over his shoulder. In this light, he almost looks like Obi-wan. Oh, brilliant, you had better not let that get to your head over-achiever.

"Admittedly, I was…Er…More focused on that than what I was assigned too as a Jedi. The force calls me to create inventions and do mathematical equations, not negotiate peace treaties and fight crime lords and other heroics," Garen, Quin-lan, Obi and I have to grin, because it is not heroics, really.

It's just nonsense…Really, truly fun nonsense. The Princess is studying Dray in the light with a twinkle in her eye. Don't you even _think_ about it, my friend, It'd do us no good to be kicked out because of your desire.

"So, I left the Jedi with their blessings, to pursue the ambition the force has called me too. Though, I miss the Jedi, and the temple," the sparkle in his eyes dims a bit, and I can sense he means it. That doesn't mean that I _trust _him, Obi-wan, so stop glancing at me that way before I get us kicked out myself by throwing one of these nice picture frames at your head.

"What have you invented?" Garen asks, inquisitive. Dray chuckles. Does he find us amusing too? Probably. Yoda seems to believe that we are just a band of circus performers that exist purely for his amusement, I swear.

"Nothing big. You can see I don't own a giant factory or technology company. Just small things like-ah, here we are," he opens a door and I hear the sound of a light switch flicking on. My eyes widen.

"Force," I whisper as I look around at what appears to be his laboratory. Shiny slick floors reflect dozens of small droids and pieces of machinery that I have never seen before. Seated against the walls are giant shelves, with small cubiclesthat are_ packed_ with pieces of machinery or hand sized inventions.

The other figures of machinery are beyond me, but they sparkle and shine with the polished spotlessness of someone who scrubs them down every morning for his daily ritual of exercise. "This place is_ amazing_," Garen whispers, eyes staring at the spectacle above, where tiny electronic butterflies sit on the ceiling, wings fluttering every once in awhile.

"You think so? I'm flattered. Here, come in, come in, I would be happy to brag," Garen and Quin-lan push past me, awestruck. Bant takes the Princess's hand and pulls her inside, where they point and awe at the complicated machinery. I look back at Obi-wan, who is staring inside with crossed arms, unimpressed. Or in pain, it looks rather like the latter.

I sigh. Looks like it is up to me to take care of him again. What would these fools do without me, anyway? "Hey Kenobi, how's that injury?" I ask softly, walking up to him. He glances at me. "Hmm? Oh, its fine, Siri," sure it is.

He is holding his side, which means he is a liar and he is probably a bleeding liar at that. "You can't ever be a politician Obi-wan. You're so bad at lying its pathetic," I inform him. He smiles at me, bitterly. "I _am_ one of Qui-gon's pathetic creatures," he recalls.

Then he grows somber again. "Speaking of which, keep an eye out for the others, make sure Her Highness doesn't try to elope with Dray," he jerks his head towards the bragging ex-Jedi, who has the firm and unwavering attention of Her Highness. Oh, brother.

"Why do I have to do it?" I demand. I really have better things to do after all. I'm a Jedi, not a babysitter, or Princess-sitter, or whatever. Besides, he may be the undeclared, established leader of this mission, but he has a long way to go before I allow him to start telling_ me_ what to do like some personal servant.

"Because I'm visiting Master Qui-gon," whoop-de-doo, give the boy a prize. That still wasn't an answer. I put my hands on my hips. He sighs. "And," he lowers his voice. "I trust that Dray was once a Jedi," his eyes flick up to the scientist. "But not Dray himself," ah, ha.

"So you do have suspicions!" I hiss. Obi-wan shrugs. "You guys have a point; anyone who can beat me in Sabbacc is either extremely smart or extremely lucky. I don't know which Dray is, but either way, luck or knowledge can be dangerous. Keep an eye on him. I don't want to worry the others," secrets, huh Obi? So uncivilized of you.

I nod. "Fine. I'll do it for the sake of _justice_," I tell him grandly. Obi-wan rolls his eyes at me, the infuriating, _pompous_…. "You are forever my hero, Siri," he drones sarcastically. I turn my back, making sure to hit him right in the face with my hair.

Take _that,_ you arrogant chosski. "I know," with the same confident swagger that belongs on a Jedi Master, I walk off to begin my sentinel.


	8. Chapter 8

~Quin-lan~

"Aaarrrggghhh?" The Princess asks from above us. I nod to whatever she said, for the sake of politeness. Kenobi was not kidding. This thing _is_ trashed. I mean, wires are hanging out of it and the buttons are half-smashed.

What in the blazes did Dray do to it? Throw it into an incinerator?

"Can you fix it?" Dray himself asks from above. I glance at Garen, who appears thoughtful. I don't know why Kenobi signed _me_ up to help him. I'm the nature guy, Garen is the mechanic.

"I think so. If we get started now it shouldn't take us anymore than two days," he predicts. I nod, the sooner we can get out of here the better. I'm getting tired of this dust ball anyway.

"We never did ask you," I half turn and look up at the former Jedi. He looks like a nice guy. That's part of the reason why I don't trust him. He is like Kenobi, sly, secretive, but Obi-wan is also the reason why we're alive, so I'll trust his judgment on character this once.

Next time though_ I'm_ picking the weird allies. You'd better believe there's going to be a next time, too. History always seems to repeat itself as far as we are concerned.

"What planet are we on?" The others turn too, surprised no one had else thought of that. Well, I _am_ just a pure genius guys, don't bow please, kneeling is enough. Dray only seems amused. That irritates me. I mean, we are _not_ that funny. The only one who's allowed to always smile that laughing little smile of his at us is Master Yoda, and even that gets to me.

"I suppose you wouldn't have had time to check before you crashed. We're on the planet Ooban, a small moon to one of the larger moons of Naboo," I nod. "How did you know we crashed?" Siri pipes up from behind me. Dray shrugs. "We felt the ground shake about a day ago. I assumed it was your ship," he tells us. Stars, it was only a day ago that happened? It feels like a millennia.

But if he felt our ship crash, why didn't he come and help us? Some neighborly hospitality we have there for good reference in the council report. I have to stamp down an urge of yearning.

After several months of missions, I'm actually starting to _miss _the temple. Man, what's wrong with me? I hate being at the temple for more than a day and a half, usually.

"Where is Obi-wan?" Bant asks, looking around for her age-old protector. I wonder if she would be too adverse to me stuffing his head into a toilet. Why I want to do this, I do not know.

I get bored, and well, Kenobi is just so fun to mess around with. I'd probably end up with the toilet _on _my head if I did try it, but it'll have been worth it to ruffle his calm.

"He went to go visit Master Jinn," Siri tells her, as I stand. "How bad were the extent of his injuries, master?" Bant asks, with her professional healer's voice. I have to say, she was born to the role.

Dray shrugs. "I am no healer, my girl. Never was. But I could feel he was hurt very badly. May I ask what happened?" It would be well within our rights to say not in this _lifetime_, buddy; but we're Jedi and he_ is_ taking us into his home. Some might say we owe him some respect.

"He was a half second too late to deactivate a bomb," Garen answers absently, rubbing his chin while he continues studying the transmitter. Dray cringes. "Ouch, brave man," yeah, Jinn is a brave man. I wonder what in the galaxy he sees in Obi-wan. I've met squirrels that are more entertaining. "He's stubborn, too," Siri adds, boldly. "He'll live," yeah, I hope so. Someone needs to keep an eye on Kenobi, and I am sure not going to do it anymore.

"Well," Dray says after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "You all must be thoroughly exhausted. Would you like me to show you to your temporary sleeping quarters?" He wants me to _close_ my eyes in an unfamiliar underground cavern beneath another gambling post called the _Swashbuckling station_ while bounty hunters are about? Ha! He must have forgotten about the Jedi legacy of cautiousness and good sense.

I may be scruffy, but I'm not stupid, and neither are the others. "No thank master. We appreciate the offer, and all you're doing, but we're fine," Garen assures him with the grace of Obi-wan himself.

"If you'll just show me where Master Jinn is, I have to check up on him," Bant adds. Garen and Siri exchange glances that say it all. She's going with Bant. This is one of the good parts about growing up with your partners.

I feel a stab of regret that not all Jedi can know each other this well. There are just too many of us. Oh, well. I don't think I'd want to know Master Yoda this well anyway. Who knows what goes on inside his huge head?

"Quin-lan and I will get started on this communicator tonight," Garen decides. I nod, though secretly I know he is going to be the only one working. I'll hand him a screwdriver every once in awhile and keep guard.

Maybe we can catch up. This is the first time our little group has all been together since…Since, man, we were younglings still learning at the temple. Almost four years ago.

Dray cocks his eyebrows but does not protest or ask. "Very well. The toolboxes are over there. Let me know if you need anything more," we nod and smile. He really is a nice guy. But we're Jedi, we're trained to be paranoid. He turns back to the girls.

"Come along girls. I'll show you to Master Jinn. I don't suppose _you'd_ like a room Your Highness?" A quick squeeze of the hand from Bant and the Princess flashes him a fanged smile and shakes her head. Good girl.

"Alrighty then. Off we go," with that he led the way out of the room, closing us inside his beloved laboratory. I turn to Garen. "So, Garen old buddy, you'd better get busy, that transmitter isn't going to fix itself. I'll keep watch," I clap him on the shoulder and sit cross-legged, facing the door. Garen sighs.

"You know, you _can_ keep watch and help me with this at the same time. Besides, You'll only end up snoozing off," blast, he already knows my plan before I even do it. Blasted Jedi mind reading, man. I turn at the waist.

"I would not!" denial is always best when dealing with such trickery. "Besides, Garen, you know mechanics isn't my thing. The best I could do was hand you a screwdriver, and even then I'd probably hand you the _wrong _screwdriver," I point out diplomatically.

"I don't care if you hand me an electric screwdriver, I'll need all of them to get this done. Don't you_ want_ to get out of here?" I open my mouth, about to remind him that we _all _do, but he interrupts me, the rude barve. "Good. Hand me whatever screwdriver comes to fancy and then come here. I'm going to show you what you can do," I groan.

Blast it, and here I had hoped to get some decent rest. I haven't slept since last night's worm attack, which for some reason Siri blames me for. Then again, none of us have, and far be it from me to be the one complaining. I mean, not even Bant or the Princess has whined yet. And if they can do it, then most assuredly I can do it better.

"Fine. Hey, Garen, sine we're not falling asleep anytime soon, if you ever got married, what species would you want as a wife?" The look of stark horror and the choking noise he let out on his own breath is enough revenge for me.

"Marry?" he chokes out. "Yeah. Marriage. You know, when two people…" I begin with the definition Obi-wan once told us. Why he wanted to know what the definition of marriage is beyond me. He's a weird kid.

"I know what marriage is you idiot! You just gave me a weird image, that's all," Garen mumbles, turning away. "What image?" I ask. I did not know Garen could think weirdly. Sure he isn't normal by normal standards, but by Jedi standards he is the typical apprentice in looks and personality.

"Nothing," the edges of his mouth are crinkling up so I know it's gotta be something funny. "Come on, Muln," I nudge his arm with my elbow, playfully. "Tell me. I want to know too," he looks up with a small smile. "Don't tell Obi-wan?" Oh, this includes Mr. high-and-mighty, does it? Shame on you, Garen. To death we shall sentence you. "My lips are sealed," _for about two hours._ Garen looks down. His hair bang moves to cover his eyes.

"Well, okay then. When you said marriage and species, I sort of thought about the Princess and Master Jinn getting…. Mph together on that ship floor, had we not been there to save him," he finished, lips sealing together tightly.

For a moment, I'm dumbstruck before he transmits the quick image over to me through the force. "Ah, gross! Garen, you nasty beanhole!" I gasp, staggering backwards. He chuckles. "It's what I thought okay? I'm worn-out. Leave me alone," he says.

"Leave you alone? You just assaulted my mind with blasphemy! Gosh, buddy, I can almost conjure up the expression of Kenobi if we were to show him," we both look at each other, and carved the same image at the same time. "Force!" we gasp in unison before we fall into laughter.

We are so tired. Can you tell?


	9. Chapter 9

~Bant~

"Aaarrrggghhh?" The Princess asks worriedly as we walk into the room. It is Dray's study obviously. A small desk with a yellow tinted light lamp sits inside. It is dreadfully warm in here, and dreamily dim.

Obi-wan is sitting on the ground by Master Jinn, who is barely breathing. His skin is sweaty and flushed. "Well," Dray observes with much too loud a voice to be in the same place as an injured person.

"Since I'm not needed here I believe I'll patrol the streets tonight," we all look up, surprised. "Why do you patrol the streets at night?" Siri asks. "It's freezing out there," I agree.

He smiles and shrugs. "The cold is no obstacle for me. Besides, this little town has a reputation for crime. It is one of the reasons I moved here. I haven't abandoned the Jedi way of life completely, you know," he chuckles. I smile. I imagine it _would_ be difficult to entirely forsake the teachings of the Jedi.

"Thank you again for everything, Dray," Obi-wan says; looking up, and his voice is slightly husky. I narrow my eyes at him. You aren't fooling anyone Kenobi. You are terrible bad at lying, really.

Dray smiles and winks. "Anything for my brethren. One of these days you'll have to tell Yoda about me, he'll bring up a whole _heap_ of stories," he laughs at this and turns, walking out.

We wait until the door is closed and he is out of earshot to begin. "How is he?" Siri asks immediately after accomplished these things have been. Great, I'm even thinking backwards now. I must be tired out of my mind.

"He is asleep for the moment. Where are Garen and Quin-lan?" Obi-wan sits up straighter as he says this. He is a proud, stubborn Gundark; let me tell you. Drives me half out of my mind sometimes. You are hurt, you obstinate rancor. You need _rest._ But no, he insists on carrying on. He's going to get himself killed with that one of these days.

"They're working on that transmitter," we hear the sound of the secret entrance being closed with a soft clang.

"Good. You all should get some sleep," he looks back down at Master Jinn, a crease in his brows. "So should you. Here, open your tunic. I need to get a look at those wounds," he looks absolutely panic stricken at that.

He's too modest. "Bant! " he squeaks indignantly, glancing pointedly at the Princess, who appears rather excited by the idea. Oh yes, no need to give her inappropriate ideas.

"Your Highness, why don't you see if Garen and Quin-lan require your help?" I suggest sweetly, as Obi-wan fairly grab's his tunic front to hold it closed. The Princess pokes out her bottom lip and lets out a grunt of regret. "They sometimes work with their shirts off," Siri puts in helpfully. At once, our charge is gone. "Well," Obi-wan remarks dryly, staring at the spot she had been in a moment ago.

"She certainly wasted no time. Siri, you go with her. If I'm going to be subject to humiliation, I want it to be by one female at a time," he snaps. He's very picky about who sees his bare skin. "What, do you think you have a _line_ of females waiting to see your bare chest, Kenobi?" Siri laughs ironically.

"Hopefully not, but since you were the one who initiated it, could you hurry to deter any others?" Obi-wan replies. I roll my eyes. Really. These two have always bickered, even when we were younglings you could always see them trying to tear at each other's throats.

Why can't they just get along?

Siri goes red with either embarrassment that he would suggest such a thing or rage at the same concept. "I'm not here in any sort of line, Kenobi. And don't you be so timorous with _me_, who do you think opened your shirt to assess your injuries in the first place?" Now it's his turn to blush in either anger or mortification. I sigh. I'm too tired for this.

"Oh, just shut _up, _both of you!" I bark. That halts them cold. They turn to me, flabbergasted. I march up to Obi-wan and waste no time in flinging his shirt open myself. He only blinks, astonished. With less gentleness than I usually use because at the moment I am _not_ in the mood to be compassionate, I assess the bleeding cuts and bruises.

"Well, no wonder you're acting so cross, you have several pieces of glass and shrapnel digging into your skin. You are lucky they are not longer or they'd be in your lungs by now. I'll have to bandage it to stop the bleeding. There's nothing more we can do about the shrapnel until we get home," I sigh and reach into my own utility belt, but large gloved hands stop me.

Stars above, Obi, what now? I'm in no mood for games. Just let me help you, for force sakes.

"No, Bant," he says firmly. "I can bandage myself. You need rest. You haven't done this before, and so much has been going on I'm frankly shocked you're on your feet still. I insist, go grab a blanket. Find a quiet, dark corner with Garen and Quin and tell them if they disturb you I'll _personally_ throw them off the temple's roof," I smile at the familiar joke.

We used to wonder if we would survive a jump off the temple's roof, and even started to try it one time, only to come running back down once the height got too high, he said. Force, we had been so young. It seemed like a century ago.

"But your bandage… " I begin again, because I can't just _leave_ him here bleeding and in pain. "I can _do_ it, I promise. Siri, you go with her. I have to stay with my master-so you're officially in charge. I want you to nag the others until they get some sleep alright? We don't know when the bounty hunters might attack, and I need you all to be ready," sleep. Bounty hunters. Rest.

Yes, sleep sounded…Blast it, he's mind tricking the both of us!

"Barve!" Siri hisses, even though she has already lost the battle. We both have. By now, I can feel the soft lull of sleep tug at my mind. The gentle warmth of a blanket. Dray showed us where they were. And sleep just sounds so good with my stomach all full like this…And I am not some spoiled child born into a novice home! I'm a Jedi, too, you arrogant Gundark.

"Why do you always do this?" I groan furiously as Siri curses, tugging at my arm. She will do it for the pure fact that his influence is so strong and currently we are in no condition to fight him. "Why do you always take care of everyone except yourself?" I demand.

Why do I hear Nabooian doves cooing? What sort of nonsense…? Oh, right, it's a sticky sort of mind trick. It'll latch unto other minds as we pass. It appears he plans on mind tricking us_ all_ into sleep without even leaving the room. "Someone taught me how to do it," I would like to meet and beat into a pulp this someone.

Obi-wan chuckles. "Goodnight girls," Siri only calls him something very unkind in another language and I sigh. "Goodnight, you pompous slug," I whisper before we leave the room and stagger to do his benevolently placed bidding. Obi-wan will always take care of others before himself. It's just…What he does.

That's why he's the greatest.


	10. Chapter 10

~Obi-wan~

"Aaarrrggghhh," The Princess snores. I can hear her from here. And her snores sound, oddly, exactly like her regular noises of communication. I would wonder if that means her habitual means of interaction are just as fundamental or important as her snores are, if I not so exhausted. Mind-tricking not two but four obstinate Jedi is hard work.

And honor binds me to finish what I promised Bant I would do, and bandage these cuts. The others are deep asleep. That mind trick implant was well formulated and well planted. Master Tahl would be…

It doesn't matter.

Sighing, I finish binding the bandage and resume my vigil over the others. I have already opened the door into Dray's study so I could watch the laboratory door across from here. If anyone wants to go in there, they will have to go through me first, yet I cannot leave Qui-gon unprotected either.

Besides, I feel oddly safe in here, and it is comfortably warm. Cross-legged, I let the force flow through me; it is strongest here, where I assume Dray spends most of his time, giving back some of my missing strength. I will need it if I am to stay up the night.

I look down at Master Qui-gon. His fever has gone down a bit. I am not sure what Dray did, but at least it cleared that dilemma up. Carefully, I reach down to swipe a stray piece of his long hair away from his face.

Why he always has to go around looking like a wild Dalgo is beyond me, but many things about my master are. He is as mysterious and changing as the tides.

I hiss in pain as I attempt to wrap the bandage around my shoulders. Even lifting my arms sends a ripple of pain through my body. My toes curl inside my boots. Ouch. Why am I always the one to get hurt? One would think I'd learned all twelve thousand of my lessons by now.

Like the lesson of forethought and gumption, I should not have mind tricked Garen and Quin-lan into sleep. Now it will take longer to fix that transmitter, and we're in enough danger as it is.

Not to mention I am going to receive an earful from my friends in the morning the minute they wake up. Maybe I'll take a little trip into town_ before_ they awake. I have put the Princess, my friends, Qui-gon, Dray and the mission itself in jeopardy just so that they could have some sleep.

What really bothers me though is that I don't regret it, not really. Qui-gon always said I was too withdrawn with my emotions. How was I supposed to get past them if I never talked about them? If I never let people know what I'm thinking or feeling?

I sigh. It isn't that easy with me. I just find it's easier to say nothing than speak my mind every which way. I'm a _watcher_, not a talker. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and I…I just don't.

Maybe that is why I can never be the proper Padawan, a good Jedi as he is. Yet these are negative thoughts and I have sincerely got to stop doing this myself. If I get to be any more cynical with my thinking, I shall surely drive myself either to the Dark Side or to madness. I'd prefer the latter, but the future is always in motion.

My chest suddenly stabs with another spasm of pain, this one so great my body turns to pulp underneath me and suddenly I am on the floor gasping, eyes closed. Breathe, breathe, it is not as if I have never experienced pain before.

I have been mercilessly _tortured_ before. I should be stronger than this. I should be better than this. I _will_ be above this pain; pain is an illusion, a lie. Come on Jedi, You wanted to be the ultimate sacrifice didn't you? Well, then_ be_ it.

The force silently snickering at my expense, struggling, I push myself up on my hands and knees and grab for the bandage again.

Sitting back on my heels, I swipe the hair out of my face and inhale, ignoring the pain. Bant was not kidding. I can feel the glass and shrapnel in my chest, digging deeper like hundreds of tiny splinters. It's an irritating sort of hurt, like an itch underneath my skin that can turn into backstabbing ache at any minute. I look down at Qui-gon, for strength.

He gives me more strength than he should, than he knows. I should not need him so much. I know this. At the same time, there is something about people like Qui-gon Jinn and Siri Tachi and Quin-lan Vos that gives me hope. Hope for what, I don't know. But hope for something.

Bant, Garen and Tahl give me drive, the determination to keep going, no matter what, if only it makes their lives a bit easier. To work harder than my share and the galaxy's share if only it causes them an extra smile a day.

Brilliant, I'm getting sentimental now, of all things, I must be more tired than initially believed. Oh, well, none the matter. Forcing myself to stay awake is quite an easy trick if I focus hard enough. I had been practicing it with Qui-gon before our fight. I close my eyes and place my hands on my knees. Breathe, breathe, peace serenity, harmony, the force…

"Obi-wan, at your age my master had to hold me down to force me to meditate. You're a head of the game, my friend," my eyes fly open. Blast, I did not sense him there! But there he is, standing like a shadow in the doorway, amused eyes watching me with crossed arms.

I bow stiffly at the waist. "Dray," I greet merely. Had I started to doze off? I could have sworn I was still awake. Had I been _sleep-guarding? _Tahl used to say I did that.

He smiles and grants me a small nod of hello. "May I join you?" I cock my head, curious. I do like Dray, and I have heard not a few stories of his exploits in the Temple.

I respect him greatly, and I am deeply grateful for his kindness, but that does not mean that I _trust _his ulterior motives. "Of course. Please," I wave at the small space of ground left to us across from me.

With less cheer than he has so forth used today, he sits. His hair is wind-tossed and his simple cloak torn in a few places. I cock my own admonishing eyebrow. "Tough night?" I inquire. He smiles ruefully and rubs his shoulder.

"Tough night," he agrees. "I notice the others are asleep. Mind trick?" It is odd how he thinks that it was a mind trick on my part, and not their personal initiatives that induced slumber. He smiles in response to my silence.

"I heard you talking at the table. I am well aware I am under the deepest scrutiny and my every move is being monitored," he tells me, without any preamble. Such bluntness is not foreign to me, not with Qui-gon Jinn, but I still find myself blushing. "It is nothing personal, master," I begin hurriedly, quick to defend our suspicious nature.

But Dray merely holds up a hand that retains enough of its former authority to halt my tongue. "Do not explain. I am the stranger now, former Jedi or not. You all are wise to suspect my intentions, and I imagine you have a good reason. I remember all too well how it is to be a Jedi, my young friend," he assures me, and I exhale slowly.

"We are in debt to you, Dray," I say at last, trying hard to sound honest and optimistic. "Your kindness has very well saved us tonight, and you are not required to do it. I wish we did not have to be such a burden on you, but…" I rub the back of my head and gaze down at my unconscious mentor.

"You didn't know what else to do," Dray finishes. I bristle; I do not like the uncomplicated truth of it. I dislike not _knowing_, almost as much as simplicity baffles me. Ignorance is the same thing as helplessness in my mind, plainness equivalent to ignorance. And being inadequate …I don't like it, that's all. To tell the whole truth, I_ hate_ it.

"Yes," I grind out for integrity's sake alone. "That is not a cause for shame, Obi-wan. You are young. This mission took an unexpected turn. From what I've witnessed, you seem to have taken things is good stride," yes, to his outsiders point of view. You barely know the situation, Dray.

You do not know me, only the diluted reflection of me that resides on the outside of all living beings. Tahl knew me. But Tahl is dead, just as every person I love has died. I wonder if Qui-gon is in due to join the ranks of the lost.

I shudder and reach down to touch his forehead again. Now it's cold as ice. Once it burned like a furnace, and now the fire has been extinguished like the sparks of life must all extinguish at the end of our lives.

I inhale sharply, and attempt to exhale past the lump now in my throat. Dray notices. "I assume the stubbornness inside you was inherited from your master?" Force, you have no clue my friend. I am only _half _as stubborn as this Gundark.

"No, he only encouraged the deadly kindling's of it, and so forth has ruined me completely," I tell Dray gravely, and he grins, eyes twinkling. I do not see what is so funny. I was serious. "Ah, partnership. I remember it well. How is Master Syfo-Dyas? My old teacher," he asks me. I am happy to answer the standard question. "He is well, master. A legend within the Temple," I assure him cheerfully. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"He's a masquerading belligerent bellboy, is what he is, don't let him fool you Padawan," I smile and dip my head. "My own master falls within the same ranks. I shall not be deceived," I promise.

Dray chuckles merrily. "Ho, you have much to learn, young one. I will not be surprised if when he awakens, your teacher reprimands you for that. Jedi can hear an insult fifty miles away, so unconsciousness should not provide an ample shield either," I smile.

There is something about Dray that inspires playfulness in me. Maybe it is the sparkle in his eye that amuses everyone, especially himself. I could bet he laughs at himself in the mirror sometimes.

"I'm shocked he can still hear at all. Master Jinn was present for the pact between the Senate and Jedi those thousands of years ago. He was the curmudgeon growling curses in the background," I inform Dray, who turns his head away to hide a smile I saw anyway. I grin victoriously. "Ah, you remind me of myself at that age, young one. You have a sharp-witted tongue. You must drive your teacher mad, surely," Qui-gon has often told me so, yes.

Will he ever tell me so again?

I gulp and turn to peer down at my mentor. He is so still, just like Tahl was so still. Not even his chest moves, and I have to put a finger to the pulse point in his neck to make sure his heart is yet beating. It is, and I exhale in short-lived relief.

_ I only wish I could apologize to you master_, I think. _For that night, we were called away so suddenly, and I was so angry, you were so angry…You had a right to do as you did. I wish you would have done it sooner. _

"You are worried," Dray observes. He probably has been watching me. I look up and realize, to my mortification, that there are tears making my eyesight blurry. I quickly blink them away, clearing my throat of the lump suddenly hindering my speech capabilities. Jedi do not give into such raw and childish emotion. I am not the first, nor the last Jedi to have experienced loss, but I am probably the most disgraceful out of all of them.

"Not at all," I lie. Dray smiles a sad little smile that irritates me for the pure fact that his eyes still seem amused, but now bitterly amused. As if he is making fun of the emotion itself, and its problematic nature rather than the situation. I do not require nor want pity or bitterness on my behalf.

I draw myself up and quickly glance out the door to the laboratory across the hall. Are the others asleep? Yes. Good. Quin-lan is snoring, too, only totaling to the fracas of the Princess. It is a miracle they have not roused the entire settlement up with their combined synchrony of snoring.

"I can sense a great sadness on you, Obi-wan," does he? Well, he would not be the first to tell me so. Master Yoda said the same thing to me not even two weeks ago, right after Master Windu, Master Dooku, Jocasta Nu, Master Fisto, roughly in that order…. Force, has it only been two weeks since we were at the temple, since we had that fight?

"It is the same sadness that hides beneath his own mental shields," he nods to Qui-gon. I avoid meeting his eyes. "Yours is perceivable. Your very signature has _dimmed_. I assume you lost someone you loved," it is a statement, not a question, and his foamy sea-green eyes are soft and sympathetic in the light.

He is not censuring me; he is not even lecturing me, but rather_ talking_ to me. I find I rather liked the idea of censure and lecturing better. At least then all I have to do is answer meekly and in typical routine.

"Jedi do not love," I remind him tightly. "Jedi do not feel attachments," He corrects me wisely. His eyes are not so laughing now, but more melancholy. I look up. "Is there a difference between the two?" I demand.

"Quite. But you are too young to understand. One day you will, but not by words. Some lessons must be taught by example, and only by specific people," force, Dray, I'm almost glad I did not know you as a Jedi. Were you always this cryptic?

"Needless to say, love is stronger, is _real_, is perpetually worthy. It is attachment-an alluring but fabricated replica- that will steer you down a dark road. So, who died?" And were you always this blunt or did that come later? Not even Master Qui-gon would have asked such a…Undiplomatic question. Making people dig into truths rather left hidden is not a Jedi's intent. It seems to be Dray's though. The question echoes in my mind, who did die?

"My mother," Was that my mouth? Why did I say that? Tahl was not related to me in any way shape or form. She just…She was the only thing I had in that grouping. She was the closest thing I could ever have dreamed of, and though I've never met my real mother, somehow I know that she could never be to me what Tahl was to me. No one can be, ever.

Dray nods, as if he has heard all of this that went through my head and more. What's greater, as if he _understands_. "You are not grieving," no heartfelt condolences? No comforting words? No Jedi mantra's? You are quite the character, Dray.

"As is proper," I reply. The spark of amusement flashes back, bitter still, maybe even more so. "Proper? Perhaps. Healthy? For some. Necessary? For Jedi. Right? No," he names off.

"If it is proper, then how is it not _right,_ Dray?" I demand with a snort that would be deemed disrespectful by an older Jedi. After all, the words were created in correspondence together. They are synonyms, similes, even. "Words are all-embracing and all-encompassing, Obi-wan. One word may have millions of meanings, you may not know all of them but that does not mean that they are not there. 'Right' and 'proper' are examples of such words. They have millions of definitions depending on the occasion," he tells me.

I know this, and it is slightly annoying that he does not seem to think I know this. "That does not answer my question," I point out, a bit snappishly. My chest has begun to hurt again. It is no excuse, I know, but I am tired and he is trying to get into more convoluted things than my mind can fathom. Emotions are something I cannot fathom; much less attain true understanding of.

"It is like this: it is _proper_ for you to manage appropriate table manners but it is not _right _to judge someone's character based on the extent of those table manners, or the lack of them," so he's saying I cannot judge Senator Free-Ta because he has no table manners at all? I see how this is relevant, yes.

"I understand," that by now you have driven me mad already. "Well, then, you should understand what I'm say. She was your friend, your mother; you loved her. You should grieve for her, it is only right to mourn that the galaxy has lost a good soul," he says.

"But it is not proper for a Jedi to mourn someone who has merely passed into the force. Shouldn't I be _celebrating_?" I bit back. "Some might say grieving is the same thing," he replies calmly. I sigh and bow my head. I'm so _confused._

"Would you rather do what is proper or what is right, Obi-wan?" I grind my teeth. Force, I don't know. I do not know what I want, what I do not want. I am not sure what to do or not do. I can only follow the doctrine already set. If it is wrong…What _will_ I do?

"I should like to find a middle ground between the two," I sigh. He chuckles. "Possible. Though, to be the ultimate sacrifice, you must always do what is _right_, and many times what is right is not proper," it is cruel to use your opponents own words against him, especially when you are attempting to convince him to mourn a dear friend, a missed soul. It is not proper…But is it right?

That's the vital question, now isn't it?

"My master blames me," I blurt, looking up. Dray understands, I know he does because he is smiling at me with his rueful _'don't I know how you feel?'_ smile, and right now, I just need someone to listen, even a stranger who I met at a gambling tavern earlier today. I think it is right…Not exactly _proper_…But right to talk about my emotions. Maybe just this one time.

"He loved her, and he is prone to anger faster than sorrow. If I had not delayed…We were on a training mission on Ragoon 4 when he had a premonition…I thought it was nothing, and I tried to dissuade him from disobeying the council_ again_…But he was so sure…" I sigh, and bow my head.

"By the time we finished quarrelling about it, it was too late. I am a fool," there. I said it. Are you happy, Dray? Is anyone happy? Does this dissolve me of my crimes now? Will this make the _pain_ go away?

It doesn't.

Dray nods, slowly. "You are young. You are not to be blamed," he decides, and I laugh, bitter as the twinkle in his eyes. He does not know. "Yes, I am. If I had not been so obstinate, so selfish…" I begin, but he waves his hand breezily. "I do not believe you are capable of selfishness, Obi-wan. Stubbornness, yes, but not selfishness. You are_ young_. It was the will of the force," then it was a test from the force, too.

A test that I failed miserably. A test that required a life to be taken and for once in my life, the first time in my life, I _failed_ a test. The most important test of all. I failed Tahl. _I did_. Qui-gon was right. I am to blame…

"Oh, dear," Dray sighs, as I only shake my head, consumed by fiery anguish. I killed Tahl, my own mother…Force, what have I _done_? "There you are. Let it out. It is only with a peaceful heart that the mind can work its rational wonders," he says, with a gentle smile.

I look up. What does he expect me to do, start sobbing on the spot? I have failed enough. I have been_ weak_ long enough.

"I am _Jedi_," I growl. "You are young," Dray corrects. "And besides that point, do you suppose being a_ proper_ Jedi will help him?" he gestures down to Qui-gon, and my heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?" I cry, already pressing hand against his throat.

I am shocked to find the skin is hot and flushed again. His fever has returned. My eyes widen. This would be a horrible sign to some people, but to me this means he has started fighting again, his body has not given up on either of us. He might live. It is a miracle of the force.

"I mean," Dray resumes, smiling at the wonder I am sure my face is filled with. "You say he loved her. His heart is broken," he squints at Qui-gon. "Yes," he affirms a minute later. "His heart is simply _shattered_. He is angry, and lost. I am afraid this time you might have to be the guide and savior, Padawan. He has already lost control once, yes?" I cringe, stiffening instinctively.

How did Dray know these things? I had not spoken word. I was not even_ thinking_ about it, I would not dare around other Jedi, where the truth may be picked up by unintentional probing. What Qui-gon did is against the Code, what I did is against the very _way of life_.

"I started it," I hasten to defend Qui-gon's standpoint. "I threw the dish at him first. He ducked, thankfully. But it was well within his rights to slap me," it had hurt, yes, but it was well deserved. I mean, I threw a cup at him. I_ threw_ something at my master in a moment of blind rage and raised voices. A shiver runs down my spine, and I almost feel my heart shrink with shame.

It was cowardly, dishonorable; disrespectful, inexcusable…Had he not distracted me by smacking me across the face I probably would have died of my disgusting disgracefulness the next second anyway. Half of me wishes I had. It would have been better for everyone.

"You did start it, and you are a horrible person," Dray agrees dryly, without any real conviction in his voice. I have the distinct feeling he is only agreeing with me because he knows I will not listen to anything of the contrary. I _am _devoted and sworn to truth, Dray.

"Nonetheless, it is never within a Jedi's_ rights_ to lay a hand on his pupil, never. Would he have ever laid a hand on you before Tahl died?" I look down. We really should not be talking about this. He might hear us, and I do not wish for him to feel guilt or shame. He has enough troubles, enough without adding my dishonor to the list. I will not be a burden.

"No," I whisper, because I_ am_ devoted and sworn to truth, master, forgive me. "Well, then you see my point. He_ needs_ you, young one," Dray suddenly stands, and I look up. "And from what I've noticed, you need him too," I open my mouth, but suddenly nothing seems to matter anymore. This time, it seems, the last word will not be mine. I look up with blurry eyes.

My mind goes blank of comprehension and nulls towards sleep. "What goes around comes around, my young friend," Dray chuckles from the doorway, amused eyes laughing at my distress and I try to protest. I can't fall asleep.

Doesn't he remember we don't trust him? Strangely, I feel no panic or alarm, suspicion or resentment. I only feel very warm and very peaceful and suddenly the pain in my chest dulls, and… I have to stay awake to stand guard.

I have to keep an eye on Qui-gon, and the Princess. I must… We can't… _I_ can't… I have to…._Force_…

I collapse into slumber.


	11. Chapter 11

~Garen~

"Aaarrrggghhh!" There is something stroking my arm. Something rather odd. Something is rather odd about this situation, really. My senses are fuzzy. Usually I can sense everything the second I wake up, but not this time.

Did someone mind trick me or something? I dimly remember thinking so last night. Hmmm…Interesting. Anyway, the thing stroking my arm does not feel like my master, usually he wakes me up in the time-honored style of either jumping into my bed to wrestle me awake forcibly or to use the force to push me out of bed.

I'm used to this, I take it as routine.

The fact that this is not the case this time means that my master is not the one waking me. So who is? My eyelids flutter, and I see a giant brown mass in front of my blurry vision.

Interesting. Err, now it is _tickling _me. It is running something that feels like a curtailed claw up and down my arm in a tantalizingly slow rhythm, added with the small bristle of soft, downy fur.

I shiver and swat at the interference. Would you knock it off, Quin-lan? I'm too comfortable to wake up right now. Go wake the others first, I'll catch up later.

Force, whatever blanket I grabbed last night is the b est; it's so soft, warm, and heavy, like a quilt. I can almost feel it responding to my breathing, matching the rhythm. Is it heat stimulated? I love those kinds. Wait…I didn't grab a blanket last night.

My eyes snap open again, all the way this time, and I let out a small gasp. The Princess flashes an impish smile, and I get a close up of her fangs. Why…? Sheesh, it was not a blanket I was feeling, but her! She is on top of me! A dim sense of panic shoots through me, because she is still stroking my arm and…Damn it, why the kriff am I shirtless?! I don't remember that!

"Aaarrrggghhh," she mumbles, pressing her humungous face into my neck. I grit my teeth and clench my fists to keep from letting out a squeal and wriggling. Force, that tickles! "Quin!" I squeak out desperately, hands pinned to my sides by her weight.

She is not completely on top of me, only half way, but her legs are intertwined with mine. Are my pants still…? Yes, oh, force thank you. I'm still trapped though, so Quin-lan get your lazy barve-ness up!

"Your Highness," I gasp, struggling to wiggle from under her. It does no good; she only takes my writhing for permission and begins slowly trailing a furred finger down my abdomen. A shiver runs up my spine.

I am officially panicking right now. I can't throw her off with the force like my instincts are telling me to do. I do not want to hurt her, but I can't let her do whatever it is she is trying to do because human and Wookie anatomy is _not_ the same, I can assure you.

"Your Highness, please! Release me," I try to say with some minuscule amount of sternness. It turns into a yelp. I have never had this happen before, alright? Don't laugh at me. There is no manual in the Jedi archives for this sort of situation! I kick out into air with my free foot, desperate to reach Quin.

My entire frontal vision is taken up by The Princess and…Ugh, she's fingering the hem of my pants. I'm extremely alarmed here, what am I supposed to do? I'm freaking out!

Alarm jets through me. My heart is pounding as if I am personally fighting five bounty hunters with toxic darts at once. To tell you the truth, I'd prefer that predicament to this. I have been_ trained _and prepared for that. Where is Quin-lan when I need him? Or Obi-wan? Siri, Bant, anybody!

"Arrrggghhh?" The Princes asks, breathlessly. "No!" I hiss though I have absolutely no clue what she said. "I want _you _to get off me, not take certain useful garments off! Please, Your Highness, we can't do this! Quin-lan!" I wail. My senses are starting to come back. Okay, stay calm, stay centered, stay….She is _rubbing _my hip bone! Time to panic. I'm done with serenity. I'm gonna die.

"Huh? Garen?" I hear a bleary voice say. I've never been so glad to hear his stupid voice in my entire life. About time he woke up, lazy chosski. "Quin-lan!" I croak.

I kick wildly, and after a moment my foot strikes something. "Yow! Hey! What was that for, Muln?" I hear Quin-lan demand irately. Something near my foot shifts, and then a muffled curse.

_ "Garen?"_ Quin-lan gasps, sounding as flabbergasted as I felt when I woke up. Damn Obi-wan for mind tricking me! I could have sensed her intentions before this even happened if he hadn't! I'm going to skin him! "Quin-a little help here?_ Please_?" Okay, I may be begging, but she just licked my neck. "Force, Garen," Quin-lan chuckles softly.

"When I brought up the prospect of marriage last night I didn't think you'd get ideas from it," at the word marriage The Princess perks up. "No, I'm not getting married!" I tell her resolutely.

Her expression sinks, but she shrugs and lays her head on my collarbone again. Her head is thoroughly too big for this. It's crushing my collarbone, soon it'll crack. I don't think she cares.

"Quin-lan!" I implore again. "Your Highness!" I hear another voice gasp, scandalized. It's Bant. Oh, thank the force its Bant. The Princess looks up, and upon seeing her little friend gives a friendly wave and signals for Bant to wait a minute, she's busy.

"Bant!" I holler, since Quin-lan has been such a great help. Bant appears over the Princess's shoulder, hands on her hips. "Your Highness!" she scolds sharply. "You mustn't tease the boys! They're sensitive, you know?" Sensitive? I'm hyperventilating here, not sensitive.

"Yeah, Garen there is still a virgin. He's not experienced, poor boy has been sheltered all his life," another voice interrupts. My face flushes bright red. You don't have to go_ that_ far, Tachi. Hey, it seems to do the trick, because the Princess's face contorts into thoughtfulness. She looks up and narrows her eyes at me appraisingly.

"See there? He looks like a panicked puppy. You've scared him," Siri snickers. I glare at her, projecting every bit of indignant detestation I can through the force, this is_ not_ funny. The Princess grunts in affirmation and pats my head in a sisterly sort of way before she stands.

The weight on my chest lifts. I sit up, gasping for breath. "Come on, girls. Let's go check up on our precious leader," Siri calls as Quin-lan chucks my shirt back at me. I scramble to grab it, my heart thudding in my chest.

"Well, Garen," Quin-lan says with a smirk as I hurriedly put it back on. Bant and The Princess trot after Siri with a morning cheerfulness I find unwarranted for all the grief I just suffered. "Looks like you're the new ladies man of the group. How do you feel?" Ha, ha. I'm laughing on the inside, you barve.

"Why didn't you help me?" I demand, as I pull my shirt back on, covered in clay and blood and dirt and all kinds of other unsavory things. Force, I can't wait for a bath. I wonder if Dray has a fresher in here. "I was having too much fun," Quin-lan replies with a smirk.

His eyes are twinkling with mischief. I glare and place a hand on my saber. You know, we don't really _need_ Quin-lan to finish the mission….But no. Murder is not the Jedi Way, no matter how better a place the universe would be without some well-placed people. "Anyway," continues my new most hated person of all time.

"Do you remember falling asleep?" he asks. I shake my head, and think back to the night before. "No. A mind trick implant. Obi, our precious leader as Siri deigned him, must have mind tricked the girls and then when they came in here it spread to us. I was so tired it probably did not take much of an effort," except that Obi-wan is tired, and wounded and he was across the hall.

How did he even manage it? How does he ever manage this stuff? And since he's so dang manageable, why can't he be the one the ladies all flock too and grant their unwanted attentions, huh?

"That haughty ass. I'm going to kill him. It'll take us twice as long to fix this piece of hog-wash now," Quin-lan nudges the long-range transmitter with his toe. I nod. "Sure is, but I have to admit I'm grateful. I needed some rest," I admit begrudgingly.

Quin-lan does not answer, or rather; he does not have time too, because at that moment the force trembles with a flash of alarm from the girls. "Garen, Quin-lan, get in here now!" Siri barks; and her voice is tense and serious. Joking aside, Quin-lan and I dash to the other room, sabers in hand.

Inside, Bant is kneeling next to Master Qui-gon. Miraculously, he looks a little bit better. The Princess is standing to the side, hands clasped close to her heart. Her eyes are filled with concern. The force is rigid with it. Siri stands above a spot where a bit of blood stains the floor.

The Force is wrong here, it is taut with unsaid things and waylaid emotions. This isn't good. My saber burns hot in my hand, responding to my surge of battle readiness. "We have a problem. Where's Dray?" Siri announces unnecessarily, her eyes are hard with solemnity.

Bant looks up with tears of fury in her eyes. One of her webbed hands is clenched, and I have never seen the fire in her pupils that I see now. She's ready to stab somebody, and so is Siri.

"I don't know. Why?" Quin-lan answers. He is partly crouched, ready for action. "Because he did it!" Bant explodes, surging to her feet. We all turn to her, aghast at the fierceness in her voice. "He took Obi-wan!"


	12. Chapter 12

~Siri~

"Because he did it!" Bant shouts, as she hop's to her feet like she has just been slapped. There is a cold fury in her eyes. "He took Obi-wan!" She says.

The boys faces turn grave and hard. "Arrrggghhh!" The Princess shouts, outraged. She is baring her fangs as if she smells something intolerably vile. My own heart is off the hook. Obi-wan has been captured. He could be hurt, tortured, dying, _screaming_…_No!_

"Come on," I say, fists clenching so hard my knuckles turn white. "We have to find…" I say no more before a shadow falls in the doorway. ""Arrrggghhh!" The Princess roars again.

Her furious bellow makes the ceiling tremble. My saber is out and ready before I can blink. Two other sabers snap out with a hiss, suddenly buzzing centimeters from Dray's nose. He is a repulsive coward!

He cocks his eyebrows, the overconfident chosski. "Well, good morning," he says with perfect composure. I knew he was not to be trusted. I knew it all along.

"Where is he?" I demand harshly. Dray stares at me as if he suspects I'm a few pieces short of the Sabbacc board. "Where is who?" he asks blankly. "I wouldn't suggest playing stupid," Garen growls, with the perfect amount of threat and courteousness. "What have you done with him?" he snarls.

"Done with whom?" Dray repeats, just as blankly as before. He's a good actor, I'll give him that. "Where are you hiding him?" Quin-lan adds, darkly, and I can almost envision the sparking lightning in his eyes. One thing you do _not_ want to do is make Quin-lan mad.

"Who am I hiding?" Dray inquires again, he does sound rather perplexed. Is he under duress? Mind control? I've seen that before. It isn't pretty. Still, we need to find Obi-wan somehow.

Bant has the answer. "I WILL TEAR OUT YOUR BOWELS!" We all jump, startled half out of our wits by the normally placid and shy Mon Calamari girl as she shoves me aside and brandishes one of her medical needles in Dray's face as if it could compare to my lightsaber. Due to the fact that she is the shortest out of all of us, she has to stretch to do it, and even then the needle comes more to face with his chin than head.

Her random and very un-Jedi like statement, along her un-Jedi like weapon of doom, and the crazed look on her face are worthy of any comedy show. Dray stares at her with wide eyes. He looks as if he half wants to laugh and half wants to tell us to get the hell out of his home.

"AARRRGGGHHH!" The Princess screams, and, adding to the madness, she suddenly flourishes the lamp in his face, it is still plugged into the wall socket, and because of this, she is pointing the glowing top directly at his eyes. Though, she couldn't have settled with only that.

The lamp she holds with one hand while the other is in possession of one of Quin-lan's shoes. How she got his shoe and when he lost his shoe, I don't know, but she is swinging it around like a bludgeon by one shoelace, deadly brown eyes seething. Dray looks positively bewildered.

Suddenly, the force parts to let a neophyte into this horror frame. "Hey, Dray?" We hear a familiar voice call out. We all freeze. I stare at the doorway. Is it truly…? Obi-wan walks into view, carrying two plastic bags with a few supplies and mechanics inside while he digs through one.

"Do you have any…?" he looks up, and breaks off at mid-sentence, staring. I imagine we are quite a sight to behold. I sigh and slap my forehead. I mean really, we are _Jedi padawans_ for force sakes. When will we learn to _look _before we leap to conclusions?

"What…?" Obi-wan begins, flabbergasted into speechlessness. It would be a miracle and time for celebration if the reason were not so warped. "Obi-wan! You're alive!" Bant screeches with joy. Obi-wan stares at her needle with confusion.

"Oh," Dray realizes, expression melting into mingled relief and amusement. "They thought I kidnapped you. I was wondering what in the blazes they were talking about. Good force, what is Yoda teaching you kids nowadays?" he asks, with some amount of delight.

"So to save me, you have a lamp and a shoe?" Obi-wan asks the Wookie, slowly. The rest of us are still paralyzed with shock and mortification. Obi-wan turns to Bant. "And you have a needle?" he asks, his expression befuddled. "She was going to tear out my bowels with it," Dray informs Obi-wan, his mouth twitching. The force uncoils with his amusement.

"And what is your job?" Obi-wan asks Garen, who probably has the same stupid look on his face. Garen seems to come too. Blushing furiously, he deactivates his saber and steps back.

"Shut up, Obi-wan," he mutters as Quin-lan and I do the same. "We thought you were _dead_!" I explode. Now that Obi-wan is here, I want to express to him my perennial displeasure.

"We thought you were huddled in a dark cell somewhere dying and in pain and pleading, and….And…" I stutter furiously. Obi-wan nods, staring at me with barely concealed mirth. "So what was your plan of vengeance? To have The Princess blind him with a lamp and then beat him to the ground with Quin-lan's shoe while Bant attempted to 'tear out his bowels' with a needle? And what were you three going to do to contribute? Stare him down with expressions that suggested you are having severe momentous and life-threatening bowel movements?" He asks.

That tears it. Dray bursts into laughter. Obi-wan is second in line, that follower. Then, only because the tension has finally been released and I am relieved I still have Obi-wan to insult another day, I laugh too. Soon enough, we are all doubled over laughing, tears streaking down our cheeks with our own ridiculousness.

After a moment of inappropriate levity, which would earn us harsh punishment in the temple, we settle back into our diplomatic roles. "We're very sorry for our accusations, Dray…" I begin but he waves it away. "Oh, please Siri, think nothing of it. I would have blamed me too. And besides, I haven't laughed that much in years. Good force," he succumbs to another moment of chuckling aftershock, before shaking his head.

"Well, I reckon that breakfast is ready. How about we dine?" He asks. I have never heard such a brighter aspect of the morning than the word breakfast. "Yes please," Garen agrees mildly. I can see in his eyes he is sorry, but the past is the past, and as Dray has assured us, he would have blamed himself too. Still, I will make sure and check my food before I eat it.

"Go ahead and have at it. I will remain here and see what else I can do for Master Jinn," he winks at Obi-wan, who smiles back gratefully. Somehow, I feel like they just shared a new flash of privacy between them. I twist my lips into displeasure but say nothing. I think we have said enough for today.

Leaving Dray to his healing, the rest of us disperse to the table and begin our patiently awaiting food.

* * *

Going to writing camp-post back again in a few days! Have a nice week!

~Queen Yoda


	13. Chapter 13

Later:

~Quin-lan~

"How is it coming along?" Bant asks as she ambles into view, her typical and gentle self once again. I, for my part, think that she needed to have that volatile moment a few hours ago.

Being gentle all the time must be dreadfully boring, and Bant is too bright a creature to be bored every waking second of her life.

"Very well, actually. We've managed to…Er…_Wing_ it, so to speak, and we might even have it done today," Obi-wan reports, from underneath the mentioned machinery where he is tinkering with one thing or another.

"Dandy," Bant replies cheerily. "Dray, Siri, the Princess and I are going back out to town to get the rest of the supplies for you guys," she tells us. I sigh. Looks like everyone is having fun without me again.

I'm hurt, Bant truly. And here I thought you loved me. "What time is it, Bant?" I ask. We've been working on this machine for what seems like hours. Or, to be fair, Garen and Obi-wan have been working on it for hours. I've been handing them screwdrivers.

"Noon. Do any of you wish to come?" I am on my feet at once. What are you looking at Kenobi? You don't need me here just to…Fine. I'll stay if it gets you to stop glaring at me. "Are you sure it's safe?" Garen asks, not taking his eyes off his work, whatever he's doing, melding two wires together or something like that.

"What about the bounty hunters?" he inquires. "I didn't sense them when Dray and I went out this morning," Obi-wan points out. "And besides, Siri and Dray will be with us," Bant assures him.

"I'm sure we will be fine," hmm, never expect the expected, Bant. In this line of work, it never happens that way. Things you should be you often are not. I _should _be a billionaire right now, living the dream like I rightfully deserve, but look at me, I'm handing screwdrivers to a scruffy-lookin' nerf-herder and a future evil tyrant. Some dream.

"Be careful, just in case. Be wary and keep a look out," Obi-wan orders, cautious barve that he is. In this case I agree with him. Man, I cannot wait to get off this planet and on to Naboo. I have heard it is beautiful this time of year, and we need a bit of vacation while waiting for further orders.

"The three of us will stay here and keep working. Call us if you need anything," our comm. links still work, thankfully. "Need anything? From you all? Sure, Obi, sure," Bant chuckles as she pivots away. She seems much relieved. Maybe she just needed to yell. Yelling is a good way to relieve stress, I've been told.

"So," I start, since no one else seems up to the task of starting conversation. What shy friends I have. "Kenobi, may I have the honor of bashing your head in for mind tricking us last night?" I inquire. "Oh, yah!" Garen pipes up, finally abandoning his work to glare at Kenobi, who has not abandoned his.

He's too good to look us in the eye, apparently. "Because of you, the Princess almost had her way with me this morning!" He accuses, and I have to turn away to hide my grin. That had been funny as kriff, I tell ya. I haven't woken up to a scene that hilarious in a very long time. I suppose I should thank you for that, Obi.

"Had her way with you? What, was she nibbling on your feet or something?" Obi-wan teases, coming from under. He looks rather worse for wear. Naboo will be your new vacation, you spoiled brat, you.

You and that master of yours need it badly. Garen flushes a deep pink. You should have known better than to start out with that Garen, old buddy. This is Obi-wan we're talking about.

"No," he grumbles. "But her hands were fingering the hem of my pants. And for some reason I was miraculously shirtless when I woke up," he growls. I have to snicker.

I mean, how comical an affair was that? Seeing the ever calm and studious Garen Muln on his back underneath a royal Princess, fidgeting and panicking like a little boy. Kenobi chuckles as I send him the mental picture.

"Forgive me Garen," he says aloud though, taking unjustifiable pity on our poor woman attack victim. "For you to suffer such _trauma_ was never my intent. And besides, it was a good way to wake you up, no?" Oh, pity is over-rated anyway. I laugh at that. "You two are horrendous, and to think that I was worried for your safety, Obi-wan," Garen harrumphs.

"I have no power over your uncontrolled emotions, Garen. Your poor judgment is your own," he responds in his condensing teacher tone. "Oh, yeah?" Garen grabs hold of one leg and pulls Obi-wan from under the machine, glaring into his face with a head streaked with grease.

"Then why is it you didn't leave a note to tell us about your whereabouts, huh? You could have commed or something. We would have saved ourselves from the humiliation had your judgment been in its right mind," he says.

Obi-wan's face falls, and I chuckle. It's about time someone called you out on one of your rare cases of mistakes, Kenobi. "You're right," he accepts defeat with grace, I gotta say that. "I'm sorry, but Dray mind tricked me last night, too, and when I finally came around I admit I was too groggy to think straight," Dray mind tricked him? "Do you suppose there was anything harmful in the mind trick?" I ask.

Kenobi shrugs, helplessly. "I've been probing my mind all morning, yet I can't find any evidence of wrong-doing. Quite the opposite, I feel…Better," whatever definition of better that he is implying this time around. I suspect it has something to do with Tahl and Master Jinn.

"How is Master Jinn doing anyway?" I wonder at the same time as Garen pipes up with "Would you like me to check?"

Obi-wan smiles at both of us. "He's doing better as well, Quin-lan. His fever has started back up. He's fighting again. And Garen, I don't think I want you inside my head after this morning's Princess debacle. You might get lost or break something important out of spite," I narrow my eyes at Garen appraisingly. He's projecting a wall of bland sincerity and hurt but still…Garen, old pal, why is there a twinkle in your eye? That twinkle that I have learned means you have a devious plan of mayhem that will involve either pain or humiliation.

Nope. I have to agree with Kenobi on this one. Knowing Garen he might snatch a discomforting memory out of Kenobi's head and offer it up to the girls as collateral one day.

Speaking of which, I wonder if I could try it… It's an idea worth pursuing, and Obi-wan has put me through my own share of grief, so I don't suppose he'd be _too_ angry for it. Obi-wan always forgives; anyway. It is just his style.

"Ah, but Obi, we both know revenge is not the Jedi Way! I would never hurt you intentionally!" Garen whines, poking out a bottom lip with hurt. I exchange a glance with Obi-wan.

He's a liar, and lying is not the Jedi Way either. Oh, no, you have the lecture glimmer in your eye. You have to take into consideration before you begin lecturing Obi-wan that stealing is also against our revered way, and well…We didn't exactly _borrow _the ship we crashed into the desert a few days ago. Two days.

Force, has it really only been two days? It feels like a millennia.

Never the matter. I'll have great stories to tell my Padawan one day. I'll make myself the superman figure in all of them though, maybe add a few little…Inconsistencies to Obi-wan's face, or make Garen's hair neon purple. Siri will be gracious and unobtrusive, and Bant will be seven feet tall and my devoted admirer.

Yes…The princess will be human, of course, with some nice curves and no fangs. She will be the one who dotes after me. After all, every champion needs a doter, right? Garen, why are you glaring at me, keep your thoughts to yourself.

"Yes, I'm sure you will call it _unintentionally _scarring me for life Garen, but that does not make it true," Obi-wan, retorts, sliding underneath the machine once more. "Quin-lan, make yourself useful and hand me the repulsor hammer, will you?" Sure, Your Majesty, and while I'm making myself useful, I'll use said hammer to unintentionally knock your head in, how bout that?

"Just a few little tweaks…" Garen mutters. Suddenly, adding to the mischief of morning, Obi-wan's comm.. link chimes. "Ugh! What now? Isn't my incarceration with Quin-lan nuisance enough?" Obi-wan grumbles, as he exits the bottom of the transmitter. I give his thighbone a good thwack that makes him cringe and bite back a curse. Take that then, you silver-tongued brute.

"Kenobi," he says into his comm. link, rubbing his sore appendage while I smirk victoriously and Garen rolls his eyes at us. "Obi-wan!" Bant shouts over the link, her voice is strained with panic. We can hear the sound of blaster fire and screaming behind her.

I perk up. What is it now?

"Bant, what is it?" Obi-wan asks, suddenly straightening up. Garen and I flock him, struggling to hear past the blaster fire and screams. "It's the bounty hunters! They're here! They're attacking!" She yelps as I suddenly hear the sound of a Wookie scream. My heart leaps and then we are standing, running to the door. "They're attacking the town and-Siri look out!" We hear a loud bang.

"SIRI, NO!" Then the line is cut.


	14. Chapter 14

~Bant~

"AAARRRGGHHH!" This throaty, earsplitting call, native to the particular species of female we were dealing with told me, a sixteen–year-old Jedi Healer that The Princess is panicking just as much as I am.

"Be quiet!" I hush, but it is futile anyway, I doubt the twelve bounty hunters can hear her over the sound of a thousand people screaming and trampling each other to get out of the way.

I watch in horror as the bounty hunters blast randomly into the crowd, laughing as they slaughter those innocent people.

Where are the boys? I lost track of Dray long ago, when we were separated by the tearing crowd. He might be lying on the ground somewhere, trampled to death by the swelling of panicked and feral bodies. Siri had told me to watch the Princess, and the Princess I plan to watch. Even if Siri is down. I can't see her anywhere in all the running people.

One of the bounty hunters shot her directly in the shoulder as she was trying to over-power him on top of one of the buildings. The last I seen of her was when she had fallen backwards into the crowd, lightsaber flying from her hand. Currently, The Princess and I are hiding behind the building we came too when we first arrived.

I gasp lightly as the ground shakes with another shock bomb. I've read about these things. They aren't meant to cause damage quite like other bombs, they were created to cause groundquakes that destroy dwellings and edifice's.

Several citizens running past stumble or fall to the ground, crying out from injuries, and my instinctual Jedi response to _help_ has to be drowned out by my duty. I must get the Princess out of danger, but how? The Princess groans softly, and I can feel her terror as acutely as my own.

"Obi, where are you?" I mutter, peeking over the side of the wall. I squeak and duck back when a blaster bolt wings past my face, scorching the corner of the building.

The clay dust has stirred up underneath all the feet, and it hangs in the air in clouds of reddish/gray dust, carrying with it the scent of blood, tears and terror. The Force, too, is raging around me like a typhoon of emotions. I've never felt so many at once.

It's so hard to concentrate!

"Ahhh!" The Princess cries out as the ground trembles again, and we both are forced to our knees by the impact. "Come out, come out my Wookie friend! If you surrender now we might sell you on your home planet, how does that sound?" The voice of one of the bounty hunters asks, callously, his voice ringing through the square.

"It's sounds like a pile of Poodoo," I murmur. The princess Grips my hand, her eyes pleading for me to do something. She does not want to go to slavery, she's terrified, I can feel that.

What I can't feel from the force is how to do anything about it! "Don't worry, everything will be okay," I cough out. The air is unnaturally dry here. Mon Calamari are used to cool, moist air. I'm a water creature, and all this dust is getting into my gills.

Force, where are the boys? If they do not get here in time… "Hello Bant, you okay?" I let out a small scream and twirl, in time to see Garen standing behind us, eyes scanning the area as civilians rush past. On his shoulder is an unconscious Siri Tachi.

I notice her saber hanging on his belt. "Siri!" I cry, as he lowers her to the ground. From around the corner the sound of lightsabers flashing to life is prominent. "More Jedi, huh? Well, we'll deal with you the same as we dealt with your little friend!"

I grit my teeth and ignore that as my hands wander over my friend, in auto-drive mode now, checking for injuries. Her arm is broken, nothing more thankfully. "Obi and Quin-lan are out there?" I ask. "Yes. Where's Dray?" He asks in return, quickly.

There is a buzz around him in the force that speaks of a warrior, ready to do his duty. I take strength from it. It is good to know that even if I cannot do anything, Garen is ready and willing to do_ everything_ in order to finish the mission and save these people.

"I have no clue. We lost sight of him when people started running. I do hope he's alright," I answer breathlessly. I cough haggardly; this dust is choking me.

Garen kneels beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "We need you to get everyone out of here, Bant. Take the Princess and evacuate the town," he orders. "How in the universe am I supposed to do that?" I demand, aghast.

How does he expect me to try to focus and lead people out in this sort of atmosphere? And where will they go? What about Siri? "Figure it out! I have to help Quin and Obi-wan," he peers around the corner and suddenly grabs his saber. The blue blade slowly slides out, hissing eternal vengeance on enemies of the light, singing a soothing lullaby to the innocent, and then Garen is off.

I sigh and look at the Princess, who is likewise staring at me with wide eyes. She is afraid, and I know she will do whatever I say. She trusts me, she needs me, and that is enough to push away my fear. I've been needed before, but not like this, not when it's this dire and when it's this important.

Healing is the process of patience and acceptance; this is the opposite. This situation is action and refusal to accept anything. I_ refuse_ to accept defeat, not when she needs me. "I guess it's up to us now, huh?" I retort, standing to my feet again.

"Carry Siri," I command, as I stick my head around the side of the building once more. On top of a selling stand across the square from us Obi-wan, Quin-lan and Garen are fighting the bounty hunters in a deadly triangle of courage.

Where will I lead the people? "Need a hand?" Once more, I jump, surprisingly unafraid as I turn to see Dray standing behind me, smiling.

"Dray! Are you alright?" I ask, delighted that he is alive. "Fine. What does Garen want us to do?" He asks quickly. The ground shakes again, and more deaths are added to the mental tally the force has required me to keep. "Shouldn't you be out there helping them?" I ask, pointing to his saber.

He shakes his head ruefully. "I'd only hinder them. I have not used this thing against skilled adversaries in years. Now, what's the plan?" I wish I had a plan.

I had sort of hoped you could come up with one, Dray, after all you were the field Knight, but no, you're staring at me with that trusting smile and amused eyes. How can you be amused, even now?

"Garen said to evacuate the town, but where? And how?" I ask. Dray screws his lips pertly. "The only safe place right now is the desert," he gestures towards the desolate tract of clay residing outside the town's barriers.

"And controlling a crowd is reasonably easy if you can get their attention, my dear," he tells me. "Sounds good …Except how do we get their attention?" I demand. There are twelve far more interesting bounty hunters shooting into the crowd, dropping bombs and battling Jedi. How could we possibly compete with that?

Dray only chuckles. "We have a Wookie, and the force. Getting their attention will be the easy part, _keeping _it will be harder," he says.

"We can't let the bounty hunters see the Princess!" I cry promptly. "Why not? They already know she is here. Hurry along now; there is no time to lose. Follow me," well, we have no choice in the matter, now do we?

I grab the Princess's arm (she is carrying Siri like a baby, which will infuriate my friend when she wakes up, but I couldn't care less at the moment) and drag her after Dray as he parades us into the merciless bundle of people running and screaming in every direction but the right one. You'd think they'd be smarter, but no, this is what fear does to people. It clouds your vision. No wonder the masters forbid it.

Distancing ourselves from the firefight still happening a small distance away, Dray picks The Princess and me up with the force and quickly catapults us onto a small stand. His grasp of the force is flawless, and full of such brilliant light that it reminds me of Master Yoda.

"Now, Bant!" He calls up, cupping his mouth and trying to avoid being trodden under foot. "When the Princess gets their attention, you lead the way. All they need is a leader!" Great, I have to lead more people? Truly splendid. My master will never believe me when I tell him this. Leading is for people like Obi-wan.

"How is she supposed to get their attention?" I shout back down. The princess grunts in agreement. Her eyes are still full of fear, but she stands atop the stand with dignity, if not knocking knees.

"She's supposed to do what Wookie's do best! _Roar_!" He shouts. I sigh and turn to my charge. "Well, you heard him. Roar, your highness! Roar as loud as you possibly know how!" There is more dust up here. My gills are burning with dirt and debris.

The Princes nods, and with much gusto, throws her head back and emits a roar that makes my ears ring. I look down to see that some in the crowd have stopped, but mostly they are running still, The Princess's scream shaving gone unheard in their own catastrophe. "It didn't work!" Dray tells us, unnecessarily, eyes twinkling with merriment.

Is he having _fun_? He must be mad.

"Try it again! Louder this time! You can do it, Princess!" I yell when she stops, hovering uncertainly. She nods, quickly, and throws her head back once more. Drawing in a monstrous breath that could have filled _a planet_ with oxygen, she does it again, roaring so loud the ground trembles as if hit with another bomb. The air trembles with terror at the pure atrocity of it.

The buildings quake. _That_ certainly does the trick. Coming to a sudden, blessed stop from running and screaming both, the entire population of the town stops, ogling.

I waste no time in delivering my message. "Everyone to the desert! Follow me!" I yell, and hop down from the stand without waiting for any answers. The Princess quickly chases after me, and the swell of people tags along as well, pants and cries of help multiplying to replace the former hollers of panic and alarm.

Adrenaline floods through me, giving me a peace of mind and clarity so sharp it's giddying. I run faster than I ever have before, leading the town's inhabitants and the Princess out of the line of danger. It feels… _Magnificent_.

This feeling of helping with action rather than talent, of saving with deed instead of knowledge, it is a different source of pride. It is a power so light that I have to smile as I lead them out of the city gates.

Most of the time, I am the hero's healer, but for the first time in my life, _I_ am the hero.


	15. Chapter 15

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~Obi-wan~

Bant is a stark genius, and I am glad she has gotten the townspeople out of harms way, because we are getting _bushwhacked_.

Three Jedi apprentice's against twelve bounty hunters is too much for us, and frankly, I am surprised we have not been riddled with blaster bolts by now.

We are close to it. On my legs and shoulders, I have been nicked repeatedly already. Garen has been caught in the side, yet he fights on, blood streaming from the wound and teeth gritted against the onslaught of pain. Quin-lan is the only one not wounded yet, but he is tiring, and in this heat, we will expire quickly.

Already my entire body has gone cold with exhaustion. We are losing, and everyone knows it. That is probably why the bounty hunters are still here, toying with us, instead of going after the Princess. That is an advantage that will keep her safe for no more than a few minutes.

But if we fall, then there will be no one to protect the Princess, Siri or Bant. And if they find Qui-gon, unprotected and feverish in Dray's underground home…

This thought is enough to keep my arms moving for now, but physical needs will trump moral ones in the end. Nevertheless, I _must_ protect my friends, even if in the end I shall perish. My life will have meant nothing if I cannot save theirs.

A blaster bolt strays past my flashing saber, and nicks my side. The impact makes me grunt. "Duck!" Garen gasps as above; a flamethrower directs its deadly, seething fire combustion our way. I jump over the edge, along with Garen and Quin-lan as the flames lick over our heads.

Rolling to my feet, I flick my wrist to loosen it. "Split up!" I bark. Garen and Quin-lan do not ask questions, thankfully, but rather run opposite ways. Four bounty hunters each separate to fight them. Good. Four against one is a better fight then twelve against three.

I turn to my opponents. Three males. One female. _This _should be good. I can no better defeat four of them than twelve. Quickly, I push one assailant away with the force. He skitters away, crying out in pain. I probably hit him too hard.

I'll feel bad about it later, because then the other three, shocking me with their brazenness, take their chances and tackle me to the ground, punching and kicking, spraying up a puff of dust. Well, this should be even more fun.

I can do close combat. It's when they kept me back with blaster bolts that we had a problem. You just made a very big mistake, my friends. A child I may well yet be, but I am no _weakling_.

Happy with this new arrangement, I flip one man over my back, punch the woman in the gut and kick the other man in the jaw. They seem to decide this idea of ganging up on me is not a good one and back away, blasters back out. I snatch the weapons with the force and fling them away.

There is no reason we need to be _uncivilized_ about this, after all.

My lightsaber is much more decorous. It cuts a blazing line of sweet justice across skin, and without more than a few more scars to add to what I am sure is a large collection, my enemies collapse, unconscious for now. It will not last long though, their injuries are minimal. I do not allow myself to indulge in victory; Garen and Quin-lan are still in danger.

This fight cannot last much longer. It would be foolhardy of me to run over and try to rescue them when my own enemies are about to wake up as we speak.

So what to do about these villains? Fighting is obviously getting us nowhere, and we cannot flee, so, what…

Wait, we _can_ flee.

The town is empty. There are no more bodies except for the dozen or so already dead. Bant has huddled the others into the desert, to safety. My eyes stray to the woman's utility belt and my eyes grow wide. Bombs, all hand sized, and with enough firepower to take out the entire town…

It is the only way. If we can destroy the town then the bounty hunters will be taken care of, but how will _we_ get out in time? And how can I destroy a whole town? People's livelihoods are here, businesses, markets, _homes_…I would destroy it all, and leave them homelessly roaming the cruel deserts just to protect one Wookie?

Is it worth it? Yet, if I did not do that, what else_ can_ I do? Garen, Quin-lan and I cannot keep playing stab, duck and advance with these morons all day. We will be defeated sooner or later, even if Dray and Siri joined the fray.

Then the bounty hunters would capture the Princess, slay my friends and more than likely murder the entire town's inhabitants so that there would be no witnesses. Dozens of people, dead, in the time span of a few minutes.

Mothers, brothers, sisters and fathers…People with _families_…However, Qui-gon is still in the underground home…He is still there, still _vulnerable_…If I blew up the town…

No. I cannot lose another parent. I just can't. It would break my heart.

_ "Needless to say, love is stronger, is real, is perpetually worthy. It is attachment-an alluring but fabricated replica- that will steer you down a dark road." _Dray's words run through my head with an echoing resonance. The force builds around me, whispering the answer. The answer that will break my heart; will tear my soul, will leave hundreds of people homeless, jobless…

No. It can't be. The force cannot be telling me _this._

I would be taking away a person's way of living just to save their life. It…It isn't proper…Is it even right? I would destroy a town to keep a young woman safe from slavery, to save my friends, it is not proper…Is it right?

Attachment, Possession, it is all forbidden in a Jedi's code. They are distractions, unworthy deterrents. But love is different. It is not proper either, yet it always felt right with Tahl, with Cerasi, with Qui-gon and Wren.

_ "Would you rather do what is proper or what is right, Obi-wan?"_

I want to find a middle ground; I want to do both. I want to be neutral. There can be neither, there has to be a middle ground, a balance…

But there is not. It is one or the other. There is no neutrality in this.

I am gasping now, emotions conflicting. Force, Qui-gon. I cannot lose my master, my mentor, the closest thing I have to a parent. Not without even a goodbye, not even a single whispered remorseful word, not even a tearful apology for all my misdemeanors. I _can't_ lose him.

I should be able too. I should follow what the force is telling me without conflict or question, but I can't, I'm too attached to him. I want to tear out my heart and punish it for making me feel this way; I want to scream for the promise and vow of truth I have taken.

I am sworn and bound to truth, and the truth of the matter is that attachment and love are not the same thing. Neither are proper, but only one is right. Only one allows you to let go. And it is love.

I love Qui-gon; I am not attached to him. He would want me to save the Princess, and these people, and my friends. It is what he would _want._ This is what he trained me to do; this is what he expects of me. This is how I can make him proud, one last time.

The fact that my heart will break in the process means nothing. I _love_ him enough to forget about that and do as he would wish. I last gift, my heartfelt apology to him will be this: I will let him go. It is decided.

I reach down and pluck the bombs from her utility belt. _Garen! Quinlan! Throw them back_! I order, the command whistles through the force with the intensity of an arrow. I am grateful they do not question, but merely do as I say, using the force to push the bounty hunters away.

I do likewise to my own little group. This is the only way, and it is not the proper way a Jedi should handle these things, but I do not care. It is what the force is demanding I do, and for that, it must be a pure answer. It is _right._

I thumb the six little bombs I have in my hands and use the force to throw them high into the air. I can hear the bombs beeping as they go up, up, up…Now down, still blinking with red lights.

"RUN!" I scream, dashing for the town gates. Garen and Quin-lan are on my heels at once, unknowing of my plan, of what I just did, of what those objects I threw up will do, but _trusting_ me enough to follow me anyway. I do not deserve such loyalty, but they give it anyway.

My legs ache, and I almost stumble with heat exhaustion, but I continue going. I can sense the bombs behind us. The bounty hunters are standing, grumbling, unaware…With a final cry of strain and defeat; I plunge forward, pulling Garen and Quin-lan after me with the force.

Grunting and coughing, we land at furry and large feet in the hot and hard clay. Three, two, one…

**_ BOOM! _**Several shrieks follow the explosion, but they sound remote and faraway. A wave of heat from the blast follows as the town erupts into flame and winds. I bow my head as my heart breaks.

I have saved the town, my friends and the Princess, but paid the supreme price. I got what I wanted, I suppose. I am now the ultimate sacrifice. With a childish sort of weariness and grief, I quickly pass out.


	16. Chapter 16

**_Later:_**

~Garen~

I passed out when Obi-wan did. Or, maybe a few seconds before. Anyway, it hardly matters, because when I wake up I am in the exact same place as I was when I passed out.

"Garen!" And someone, a very rude someone, might I add, is gingerly slapping the side of my cheek. Instinctively, my hands shoots up to catch a slender wrist in a bone-crushing grip.

"Ow!" Siri shrieks. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I was only trying to wake you up, chosski," Siri grumbles down at me. Slowly, my eyelids flutter open to see Bant, Dray, Siri, and The Princess all staring down at me. Behind them, the early afternoon sun has lowered from sweltering to merely tanning.

I release Siri's wrist and reach up to rub my eyes. That hurts, because my hands are covered in chalky clay dust, which get into my already dry eyes. "Ugh…What happened? Is everyone alright?" I inquire in a mumble.

Siri has a crude sling around her right arm. Bant looks paler than usual, and I hear rasping noises coming from the gills on either side of her neck. She must be half choking in this atmosphere.

The princess has a weary look in her eye, and her fur has turned grayish-brown from the clay dust, but otherwise she appears unharmed. Dray doesn't have a bruise on him, lucky man that he is. "That depends highly on your point of view, my friend," Dray chuckles, his eyes are still smiling with amusement, and a brief sense of relief.

"Quin-lan? Obi-wan?" I inquire, as I attempt to sit up. My vision swims with dots, and I cry out in agony as my entire body erupts with pain. "Careful! Careful! You've been nicked by blaster bolts everywhere, and even shot in your side a few times. It's a miracle you haven't bled out," Bant tells me as she and Siri ease me back down. The Dray gestures to the Princess, and they saunter away somewhere. To wake the others, I presume.

"The townspeople? The bounty hunters? Quin? And Obi-wan, what did he do?" I demand. After all, with all the trouble I've gone through today I want answers. I cannot turn my head to look at the town behind us. All I remember is finally ending up on the ground by the Princess's feet before hearing a loud noise. Then nothing.

Siri's face falls. "The bounty hunters are dead, and the townspeople are all safe. I just wish there could have been a better way to save them," she mumbled. "Why?" I grit my teeth.

Force, it hurts like the blazes. Bant moves towards me and plucks something small into my mouth. "Chew, swallow. It's a painkiller," she instructs. I do as she says. After all, there is no arguing with a healer.

"Because the blasted Chosski _blew up_ the kriffing town," Quin-lan replies, walking into view. He is holding unto his side, and his eyes are weary and body limp with exhaustion. Nevertheless, he offers me a grim smile. "No way," I gasp, painfully swallowing my medicine in a dry throat. Immediately, my body starts to numb. Bant hurries over to Quin-lan.

"He did. The townspeople are searching in the remains now, trying to find valued possessions, crying out their anguish. If we hadn't convinced them it was for the best, they'd have killed all three of you," Siri explains, as she grabs my hand and hauls me upward. It stings a little, but the painkiller is working its chemical wonders.

"I don't blame them," I mutter. Is the sky spinning to anyone else? "It was the only way!" Bant protests. "He saved all of our lives!" She defends him. "It doesn't matter, Bant," Quin-lan sighs grimly. "These people are now doomed to roam the desert, which might kill them anyway. We need a new plan," he points out. "We_ need_ to wake Kenobi," Siri agrees.

I sigh. That might be easier said than done. If I know my best friend, he will feel terrible about destroying these people's home. He might offer himself up as a sacrifice if they growl at him enough. He is sensitive that way, you know? Saving the day or not, there_ are_ consequences to being a hero.

"Wait," I cry, realizing something. "What about Master Jinn?" The others swivel to stare at me, a tiny gasp escaping all of us. Force, Obi-wan, you Gundark, what have you _done_? "Oh, force," Quin-lan gasps, eyes wide with shock.

"He couldn't have…" Bant whispered. "I believe that the townspeople are not the only ones who have lost a great deal today," Dray says, shaking his head. The Princess lets out a small sorrowful moan. "But wait!" Siri suddenly cries; her own impertinent lips hardening into that stubborn line of hers.

"Qui-gon is underground, in Dray's lair, remember? Maybe the blast didn't affect him," she points out, hurriedly. I look at Dray, who nods. "She has a point. He might yet be alive and well," he exclaims. "I vote we…Go check," welcome to the land of the living, Obi-wan.

Stumbling, he joins the circle. "Is everyone alright?" He coughs out, hand gripping his bloodstained front. Force, buddy, how are you even standing? "Obi-wan!" Bant screeches, throwing her stubby arms around his neck.

Obi-wan gasps, the force of a delighted Mon Calamari girl throwing him onto his back. "Bant!" He squeaks, when they land on the ground. "Careful there, Bant, he's injured," Dray points out hurriedly. Bant looks down at the dried blood staining Obi-wan's front.

"You are! Oh, you barve!" She smacks him on the chest, making him gasp in pain. "Can't you ever stay in one blasted piece?" She demands. He doesn't answer, which is a bad sign.

"Alright, my friend, we'll hit him later. Come on now, you're killing him," Siri chuckles, using her one good arm to haul Bant up. "S'okay," Obi-wan rasps, breathing shallowly. "Think I already…Died. The bounty hunters?" Our idiot leader asks as Quin-lan and I grab each arm, helping him up.

Bant hurriedly rips open his tunic before he can complain, surveying the damage. "Dead. You've saved the town," I assure him. "Though your methods were a bit radical," Dray reminds him patiently. Obi-wan nods.

"I know. But the force willed it of me. Ow! Qui-gon might be alive?" he inquires. "I'm surprised _any _of you are still alive. Force, I can't ever go anywhere with you people," Bant gripes, as she takes off the soiled bandages and proceeds to give him new ones. "It's a good chance," Dray answers.

Obi-wan nods; and I can see him steeling himself for the worst. "We had better go check," he grunts when Bant is finished. "You're injured! You're all injured!" She squawks, horrified that we are even considering standing and going anywhere this early. Hey, we're Jedi Bant, this is what we were born to do. We were born to do stupidly brave stunts. You should know this.

"We'll all _live_," Siri replies calmly. "For how long?" Bant wails. Don't go hysteria on us yet, Bant, we still have to come up with a new plan. "Obi," I say, ignoring her paroxysm. She's just tired. I do not blame her, so am I. "Are you sure you want to come? You know what we might find," I remind him.

I see him gulp. His eyes sparkle with a blimp of fear, but he nods. "N-no, I did this. It was my decision. I knew what might happen if I went through with it. I'll face the consequences," and now you want to punish yourself even further by witnessing just what you lost first hand?

Force, Obi-wan, you are officially nominated most brave person I have ever met.

There is no arguing with him when he says it that way. "Okay," I accept. I really hope you aren't going to regret this, Obi. I sincerely do, you've lost too much already. "Whatever happens," Siri puts a hand on his shoulder. "We have your back," forever, you haughty, brave chosski. Forever.

Obi-wan nods, his entire expression one of mourning already, and leads the way without missing a step. I exchange a glance with Quin-lan and Siri. The people of this town, saved lives or not, will be most unhappy to see us. I do not expect a welcome walk through the town.

Surprisingly, there are no jeering remarks or thrown objects as we parade conspicuously through town, all us looking straight ahead and not at the destroyed debris of our martyrdom. It is eerily silent; they only stare at us walking past, with wide and burning eyes.

I can sense their emotion, their thoughts. And right now they think we might be some whimsical demons come to punish them for their sins. If it keeps them from throwing things at us and yelling out their hatred, I see no reason to correct this false belief.

Still, it is a bit disconcerting when they stop and stand there, perfectly still, to glare at us walk past. None of us look at them, we only follow Obi-wan as he leads the way to the giant mass of demolished debris once called the _Swashbuckling Station._ I regret making fun of the name now. It seems like blasphemy.

We halt before the rubbish, helplessly. How do we even find where in the world the secret entrance could be? "I say the force," Dray randomly announces.

We turn to him, wondering why in the blazes he had to go and declare a stupid proclamation for. He notices our weary confusion and grins, forever amused. I don't even have the energy to conjure up my annoyance.

"I meant we use the force to_ find _it," he corrects himself. Oh, why didn't you just say so? "Aaarrrgghh?" The Princess asks. "Yes, be ready, we might need you to haul some things out of the way," you know something? I'm going to learn Wookie after this.

If only so I can figure out what the heck _"Aaarrrgghh,"_ means. She's been saying it all this trip, and frankly all it's telling me that I seriously need to go home or she honestly needs a better vocabulary.

"This way," good job, Quin-lan, you're actually on it this time. Usually we would have had to remind you that you are the tracker and so this is your area of expertise. I guess the look on Obi-wan's face is good enough to get you to take some initiative for once.

Carefully, we risk our way through the sharp remains of glass and hot metal to the very back of what used to be the building. The princess runs ahead, and begins shoveling.

Obi-wan stares at the ground, passively, as the Sabbacc board starts to come into view. Just one more piece of metal and…

And it doesn't even have a scratch on it. I stare, flabbergasted, I had at least expected that the board would be trashed, maybe even smashed into pieces, but no, it is sitting here perfectly fine, not a single graze on it. Nevertheless, it is the inside we worry about. Without further ado, Obi-wan tugs the Sabbacc board open with a nudge of the force.

"Your chest…" Bant begins when he grabs the ladder and begins slowly inching his way down, teeth gritted. I put a hand on her arm. Injured or not, Bant, he's going in there, and injured or not we are_ going_ with him. She nods in bitter understanding, sighing.

We hear a thump as Obi-wan lands on the bottom. Ignoring the horrified look Bant gives me, I skip the ladder and just plain jump into the hole. I land, with a tiny tremble in my knees and back, on the bottom, and look up.

"What the kriff?" I gasp, utterly dumbfounded. Not a single thing, not a single piece of _anything_, has moved or been affected. It looks just like we left it this morning. I hear a strangled laugh from the back.

Obi-wan's palpable relief in the force tells me that, once again, our worst assumptions have been proven incorrect. Not only has Qui-gon Jinn been spared but Dray's home as well. It is as if the force itself has placed a protective shield over this alcove.

"Is he okay?" Siri calls down. I look up. "Dray your home is either resilient or force-blessed. Not a single thing is out of place!" I yell back up, joyfully. "The transmitter! Is it okay?" Force, good point Quin, I completely forgot about that.

Racing as fast as my wounds will allow me, I find my way to the laboratory where, miraculously, the transmitter; also is in its designated spot, and it is repaired, good as new. I gawk.

Who could have fixed it? We left it still in a heaping mess of tweaked wires and buttons! "Obi! Did you do this?" When did he possibly find time? Obi-wan appears behind me, face streaked with cheerfulness. He halts upon seeing the transmitter. "Wow!" Quin-lan gasps from behind us. "Oh! You guys finished it! Good job!" Bant shrieks happily.

"Now we can call the Naboo for help! Right on!" Siri pushes past, along with The Princess and Bant into the room. Doggedly, they huddle near the transmitter; it turns on without so much as a splutter. "But…But…" I splutter.

"Did you two…?" Obi-wan begins, turning flabbergasted eyes on us. I shake my head quickly. "We ran out, remember? And we left it unrepaired. How…?" But the question went unanswered by any of us.

"Could Master Jinn have?" Quin-lan asks Obi-wan. But my friend shakes his head. "No. No, his fever has broken but…No. He must have put himself in a healing trance. He's dead asleep," so who in the blasted universe fixed the transmitter?

I look at Obi-wan as the girls get a return signal. The Naboo, the fantastic Naboo, are on their way. I guess that's all that matters. "I don't think it really matters now, huh?" After all, Jedi are supposed to dwell in the present moment.

Obi-wan grins; unsteadily. "I guess not," he agrees. Quin-lan lets out a whooping laugh. "Hey, we're Jedi man! This happens all the time! Let's get out of here!"

I can't agree more, Quin.


	17. Chapter 17

Naboo:

~Siri~

"AAARRRGGHHH!" You said it Princess. I like this place too. Even if I am stuck in the medical facility, it is a _nice _medical facility, inside of the Grand _Palace._

Sometimes being ambassadors for the Republic have their quirks, younglings or not. Leaning back in my medical bed, for I have been condemned to bed rest for my broken arm, I sigh with lazy content and levitate my juice over.

"It is such a pretty sight," Bant says, rummaging in the medical cabinets that I managed to pick the lock to with one hand (my master will be most impressed) in her excitement to discover new medical implements.

I sip my drink. Hey, we're Jedi, like Quin-lan said. We have a license to causing a bit of trouble. Isn't that right, Princess? Anyway, the view _is _gorgeous.

My medical bed is actually in a private room overlooking a lake. My bed is turned to this balcony over the grand water. The late morning sun is glinting off the lake, and it is deliciously warm here. I hear the sounds of finches and other water birds in the distance.

The breezes shift my hair every once in awhile. If I were not supposed to be diplomatic, I would fall asleep and never wake up. The Princess is in a lounging chair at my side, a pair of sunglasses placed at the tip of her small nose. Now_ this_ is the life.

Speaking of diplomacy…Ah, there they are. Without even knocking, or touching the doorknob, Garen, Quin-lan and Obi-wan, who had been confined to their beds too, and apparently are not feeling very rule-abiding today, waltz in.

"You'll anger our hosts with your disobedience," I scold sternly. "You three are supposed to be in bed!" Bant adds, coming from her rummaging to brandish a Bacta pad at them threateningly.

"What do you mean? I've been _negotiating_ all day," Obi-wan harrumphs. He is once again in his white tunic, hair neatly washed and combed back into the spiky tuffs atop his head.

His Padawan braid dangles from his left ear. Garen and Quin-lan; also, have been washed of the clay dust and filth.

The Princess lowers her spectacles at them and grunts her agreement with Bant and me. "Fine, negotiator, what will happen to our guests?" I wonder, since he's so smug about it. "And the princess?" Bant says. By guests, I mean the townspeople, who, thankfully, have come to Naboo with us. All one-hundred and thirty six of them.

The Naboo pilots were adamant that they were not going to leave all those people there to rot in the desert, and they were sure the queen wouldn't mind having them at the palace.

We did not put up much of a fight. As it so happened, the queen was just as adamant about keeping complete strangers in her palace. Despite this, we cannot just _leave _them here.

The townspeople may love this planet paradise, but I can sense their longing for the clay dust world they had been so accustomed too. To each his own, I suppose. Anyway, that was Obi-wan's job, since he's so good with his fancy words and Master Jinn is still in his healing trance.

"The Queen has decided to keep them here for as long as it takes to rebuild their town," Obi-wan tells us. "You mean she's _hiring _people to go build another town for them?" I gasp; such charity is rare as a dwarf star.

"Not at all. The townspeople will work with happy volunteers to build it up again. All of them- inhabitants and volunteers alike-are quite excited about it," he says. I can't believe it. This sort of kindness and well…_Compassion_ is Jedi stuff. I had not known the rest of the universe knew about it or could do it too.

Force, the things you miss, and we have only been gone three days. "That's great!" Bant does not seem too surprised. "And us? The Princess?" She inquires, taking out a needle and inspecting its tip gingerly.

I notice the boys shift away slightly. Bant has threatened to tear put a person's bowels once with such a device. Best not to repeat _that_ adventure.

"The Princess will be heading home aboard the best shuttle Naboo can offer in the next two hours," Obi-wan says, smiling at the said person. Her Highness claps her hands excitedly, joy flaring in the force as she shoots a celebratory fist into the air. "And as for us," he sighs. "We are scheduled to leave for Courascant in three hours. The_ council_ awaits our report," oh, no.

"Oh, man," Quin-lan claps Obi-wan on the shoulder, sympathetically. "They are going to_ grill_ you for blowing up that town, buddy," he says, as if we all don't know this already.

"I know," Obi-wan moans anyway, eyes dropping to the floor. "I have prepared myself, and it is only what I deserve," ah, that is not fair Kenobi, you saved all of our lives.

Maybe Yoda will see that, you always were his favorite, besides it's not as if you did not risk something of your own in that explosion. The fact that you did not lose it was the will of the force, and not your doing or intention.

"Well, gents," I lean back and cross my ankles underneath the thin covering. "Let's enjoy our last few hours of freedom before we have to go back to work," I say, and, grumbling, the boys agree.

Without goodbyes, they file out to their own rooms where I suspect maid's are waiting to pamper them. You had better watch yourselves, boys. Those maids are treacherous.

I look over at my Wookie friend, and feel a stab of sadness that she is leaving so soon. These past three days have been hectic, and full of action, hilarity and frenzied escapes. All to protect this young woman from slavery.

Somehow, I feel as if these past few days of my life have been dedicated to her memory, she is a part of me through this adventure, through the lessons taught here. Blast, isn't that deep?

Dray, too, will be missed. Despite our protests and pleads against it, he insisted on staying on planet instead of coming to Naboo with us. _"You'll be fine,"_ he had assured us, eyes grinning with amusement at our childishness.

Fine, I admit it is just a smidgen juvenile to feel disappointment that he did not want to come with us. We all know the friendship will last even if the association does not.

I mean we_ are_ Jedi, goodbyes are a part of our nature, our very existence, we say goodbye more often than hello, but force, Dray has become a father like figure in my eyes. A true friend. I still do not trust him as far as I could throw him, but he_ is_ my friend.

Yet we left him with our thanks and goodbyes this morning. The past is the past, and like I said, goodbyes are a part of a Jedi's life. He, of all people, understands this. If only_ I_ could learn to understand it. I know Kenobi, especially, will miss him. Dray liked him the best, as all adults seem to for some reason.

"Ah! They have the new warmth-responsive bone knitters!" Bant squeals, excitedly taking out a weird looking thingy that probably has a great deal to do with life-saving and medical reasons. Bant, put the sharp object _down_, for force blasted sakes.

The Princess looks over her shoulder and rolls her eyes. I guess she's pretty used to us by now. She's seen us injured, playful, serious, panicked, silly, starving and strong. That's more than most people ever see of their own mother's in a lifetime.

"So, Princess, will you miss us?" I inquire. I can't speak Wookie anymore than the others can, but I am relatively sure I know that she is saying some of the time. Her eyes speak it all.

Her Highness crosses her ankles and puts her hands behind her head, pretending to think about it. After a minute, I snort. "Force, you don't have to be so _thoughtful _about it," I say. Her Highness grins: and I think I might even miss seeing her fangs. What a sentimental twit I am, huh?

"I would be, Siri. I mean, even I can't decide whether I should describe this adventure as fun, nerve-wracking, repulsive, fear-provoking, hilarious or just plain weird. It's a mixture," Bant calls over. She's so unhelpful sometimes.

"Try doing this all the time and see what you think then, Bant my girl!" I cluck. The Wookie looks at me inquisitively, the question is clear in her eyes. "Well, you tell us then," Bant speaks the question aloud; her back turned. "What would you call this so-called mission?" She asks.

I sit back and screw my lips thoughtfully. What sort of mission was this, anyway? In _three days_ we have committed several crimes including property destruction, stealing, kidnapping and disturbing the general peace.

We have crashed a ship, been almost eaten by giant worms, found an ex-Jedi living on some clay desert town in a tavern called the _Swashbuckling Station_ of all things, fixed a long-range transmitter, and a number of other endeavors that end here and now, on Naboo.

Isn't that peculiar? "That's what I would call it!" I laugh. "What?" Bant asks, surprised at my sudden delight. I raise my brows and smile. "I would call it_ interesting_," I snicker. We all laugh for a very long time.


	18. Chapter 18

~Quin-lan~

Two goodbyes in one day. Magnificent. First Dray then the Princess, and now we say goodbye to Naboo. If I weren't a Jedi, I would be _crying _right now. I mean, Obi-wan could not have given us just a few more days here?

He couldn't have pretty talked us into being stationed here permanently? I mean, the council will listen to him!

But no, he had to be all goody-two-shoes and bow and say 'yes master' and now I'm standing on the landing pad by the readied ship, about to go back to the boring old temple and say goodbye to Naboo for possibly forever.

Thanks, Obi-just…Thanks a whole kriffing lot.

When Bant walks out and stops by the doors, obviously relishing the view of the mountains, I half expect to see a Wookie on her heels, or hear the sound of the characteristic bellow from here.

I almost open my mouth to ask where she is until I remember that she has been taken back to her home planet by the starship already. A _heavily guarded_ starship.

"Look on the bright side, Quin-lan, this will be some adventure to tell the younglings when we get home," Garen points out as he walks down the ships open ramp. I huff and glare at him from the corner of my eyes.

"If we stay home long enough to tell anyone anything. We might get sent right back out the second we get there. Everything all ready?" I ask. He nods. "And waiting. Where's Kenobi?" I don't know, Garen. But I hope he fell in a ditch and is still there moaning in agony.

"Force, Quin," he chuckles, seeing the thought in my head. I let him see it. I hope Obi-wan sees it too, wherever he is. "You don't have to be so_ expressive_ about it," yes I blasted do.

Siri walks out, her arm still bandaged. My wounds, too, have been taken care of, along with Garen and Obi-wan's, though the doctors have advised bed-rest for a few more weeks. We'll see what the temple healers have to say about it. It still means I might have to spend a few more weeks in the company of these fools.

For some reason I simply cannot fathom…I don't mind.

"It's been a long time since we've all been together," Garen mumbles. I nod. Siri reaches out and puts a sisterly arm around Bant's shoulder's, the afternoon sun illuminates their faces like angels in the sunlight.

If I wanted, I knew Garen would tolerate me doing the same. We are just close like that. We grew up together, and though we are all with good masters, masters chosen specifically by the force, I sort of miss those carefree days of youngling-hood.

Where all we had to worry about was staying out of the way of Bruck, trying not to get caught with whatever new stunt we came up with, and trying to figure out old Yoda's riddles.

Yep, those were the days, and I suspect someday right now will be 'the days' farther down the line. That is the future and it is ever moving, of course. Another of Yoda's riddles that I figured out on this trip.

"Yeah," I grunt. "In a few weeks, most certainly, we'll be out and our own ways again, not to come together for another few years when the mission demands it. If I forget your name, Garen, I'm sorry," I apologize in advance, even though I doubt I could ever forget Garen, even if I never see him again. I can't forget any of them, really, even Dray and Kenobi.

Especially Dray.

"You're a barve," Garen mutters affectionately. I grin and toss my braids back. "That's my name, don't wear it out," I agree. He rolls his eyes and leans against the ship, arms crossed. "All the same, if I get your name _wrong_, I'm not sorry," you smart-mouthed Gundark. I chuckle softly.

I taught him well enough, it seems. "You're a chosski," I reply. He chuckles in turn, and we take to watching the sun together. A second after, two Naboo doctors come out with Master Jinn on a hovering stretcher.

He is still sleeping, but deeply now, the lines around his eyes has relaxed into peace. He looks twelve years younger, before he met Obi-wan, really. Knowing Kenobi ages a man.

The cheery faced medics usher the Jedi master aboard. Obi-wan join's our sides, sighing. "He looks much better," Garen observes. "He is doing better. I can feel it," Obi-wan agrees, smiling. He looks younger as well.

Not in the physical sense, in fact he looks older in that way, but around him, the force, his _spirit_…It shines with the starting rays of dawn. Once dimmed with grief and guilt, now he appears as free and blissfully detached as a grown master.

I sigh. Typical Kenobi. "We're glad to hear it. I'll be happy to return to the temple after this," Garen says, with the same knowing smile in my direction. I know, Garen, I know. What would he do without us, right?

"As will I," Obi-wan frowns at the sun. "Yet…" he mumbles. "What?" I ask, seeing a bit of uneasiness sink in between his shields of fragile detachment. Force, Kenobi, can't you have peace for more than two seconds?

"The transmitter? Who could have fixed it?" We all look at one another confusedly. None of us had done it, and Dray and the girls had been out getting attacked.

"It must have been Master Jinn. He might have passed out from exhaustion after fixing it," I suggest. Obi-wan shakes his head. "No way, Qui-gon can't fix an arm onto a droid, much less a transmitter. He needs me for that. Besides, we would have sensed his presence in the room. He'd been in the study all along," he points out. I huff, a tad worried. Who else could have done it?

"A mysterious friend we never knew about?" I inquire. "It must be. No one else could have fixed that thing. But who?" before we could ponder any longer, Siri and Bant walk up. "Well, boys, time to depart. All ready?" No, I'm not ready. I'll never be ready.

"Hey guys, do you think you could just tell my master and the council that I went missing and you never found me? I owe you one, thanks!" Siri grabs my collar before I can run away, this plan settled.

"Oh, no, you don't," Obi-wan agrees, poking me in the chest. "We have to go together, Quin. As a last stand!" Bant cheers positively. I glare at both her and Siri.

"I hate last stands," I grumble as Obi-wan and Garen hitch my arms into theirs and lug me aboard, the girls triumphantly swaggering after us.

Then, ignoring my whimpers of protest, the pilots take off and we float gracefully into the sky back to Courascant and the waiting council.


	19. Chapter 19

~Bant~

It's so good to be back in the temple med-ward again. This place is a heaven more wondrous than any Naboo could offer me, and I find that I have missed it extremely.

I bask in the light of the white, sterile walls and the sweet smell of Bacta and flowers. I savor the sight of elegant glass rooms, with fuzzily shaded views to provide privacy.

I love the low hum of machines keeping hearts beating and the soft murmur of people getting stronger. I love walking past the other healers and exchanging glances of knowing and mutual understanding.

I love the smell of fresh bandages as I rummage through the medicine cabinet and chattering amiably away with my patients and the dim lights above.

I have tasted the sweet victory of being a hero, and now I am merely happy to be a healer again. After all, even the hero's need help sometimes. I learned that, of all things, from my friends the past few days.

It is so peaceful here; I cannot imagine why Obi doesn't like it. But he doesn't. I can tell by the way he walks in and wrinkles his nose as if he has just stepped into an alternate world of horror and torture.

"Here to pester your master again?" I inquire as he walk up, tensed as if he expects attack. He nods. "You should be resting," I inform him, giving him a stern eye.

I did not convince the masters to allow him bed rest in his own quarters so that he could spend the day hours lounging here at his Masters side anyway. If I had known he would do this, I'd have just moved his bed into the same room as Qui-gon's.

"Why are you here? And in those tunics?" I demand. I gave him a specific robe to wear that would not scrape at his stitches a few days ago when he left here.

We managed to get every single _modicum_ of glass and shrapnel out of his frontal cavity, but the skin is still swollen and sensitive. I can't have him getting an infection because of his own stupid pride.

He gives me a lopsided grin that has been missing since Tahl died. Don't you soften me up, you single-minded fool. I'm still mad at you for getting yourself hurt by blowing up that town.

Siri has forgotten her promise to help me beat you for it. Sometimes I think she likes you more than she lets on, but whatever, I can hit you all by myself when you're well again.

"I am here to pester Master Qui-gon, remember? And I have a meeting with the council in a few minutes," ah, yes, the final verdict. All week the council has called us in one by one, getting our testimony from each of us.

Though I am sure the others took it in stride, I took it as first timer would. I stared in mute horror at the twelve pairs of stern and unyielding eyes glaring my way. I could feel Master Yoda's unfair amusement on my behalf.

"What? Only you?" I ask. His mouth quirks up in a tiny grin. "Yes, it is a private meeting. I _am_ a busy man, Bant," he tells me. I harrumph worriedly and cross my arms, blinking. His face softens. "Don't fret Bant, despite what I'm sure the others told the masters, and what the masters knew were lies, I _was_ the leader. It was my decision. My call. And _my _responsibility. I am ready to take punishment for it. It was not the Jedi Way."

Well, that's all well and good Mr. goody-two-shoes but you are still healing from an abrasive wound to both mind and body. You are in no condition to be brow beaten and then censured by twelve of your role models. He only grins. He takes joy in my displeasure, I swear.

"If you are quite done being over protective, may I see my master now?" He asks. I huff, just to finish my point, and nod. "You may. Good for you, he's awake," his face brightens and I have to smile as I lead the way.

"He is? Finally! How's he doing?" He asks. "Quite well. His fever has broken, his injuries are healing quite nicely and he is as defiant as ever. He keeps asking after you, too," I add, just for his benefit. Obi-wan does not seem to hear me, or he ignores me. You can't always tell with him, he does both so frequently.

We come across the room where Master Jin is held and I palm open the door. "Master Jinn, your stray pet is here," I announce. Qui-gon, whose tongue we finally managed to subdue with a good book on the data-pad, looks up. "Padawan!" He gasps.

He has not seen Obi-wan in almost two weeks. I snicker at the relief he projects in the force. Goodness only knows what he sees in this stubborn chosski. What Obi-wan needs is a good _thwack_ upside the head.

Wait, did I just think that? I've spent a little too long with my friends, I think. Oh, well, the damage is done, and maybe for the best, too.

"Master," Obi-wan bows deeply, a bit shyly. Two weeks is a long time, and after all we've been through? I hardly recognized Master Jinn myself when he woke up, not because he had changed, but because_ I_ had.

Master and apprentice stare at each other silently for a time, and I can feel the air is tensing with some memory I am not privy too. Oh, dear, can't have that, can we?

"Now," I begin crisply, sparing Obi-wan any further embarrassment. What are friends for, right? "How do you feel, Master? Any discomfort?" I ask, walking over and plucking the data pad from his hands to inspect them.

They were burned very badly from the radiation in that explosion. He gawks at my nerve, but hey, spending three days with Siri does that to a person. I don't have time for politeness _today_, Master Jinn.

"No, Bant, thank you," he cocks an eyebrow, and I have the distinct feeling that he approves of my new brusqueness. He turns to Obi-wan. "You were spared injury?" he inquires cautiously. "No," I answer before Obi-wan can lie.

"In fact, he's _supposed_ to be in bed. The skin on his front, and some of his back, too, is torn to shreds, and don't even get me _started_ on the blaster nicks in his sides," I answer, without looking up. Why are you glaring at me like that, Obi?

You are not the only one sworn and bound to truth, you know. And the truth hurts. Qui-gon narrows his eyes at his pupil. "I see. And just why are you out of bed, Obi-wan?" his voice is sharper than usual.

Be nice, Master Jinn, your Padawan is a hero and he's still injured. Here, put this thermostat in your mouth. It will save you the breath and him the explanations. I don't have time to see you two squirm over this.

"I have a private meeting with the council to finish up the mission report. It should take no more than few hours," I wish you luck. Maybe I should give you some earplugs, Obi-wan; they might…No? Alright, well, I tried, and I can see that glint in your eye.

"A private meeting?" Qui-gon asks incredulously, around the thermostat in his mouth. "Yes. Concerning a small… Impasse we had in town. I'll explain it to you later," he promises. "It is quite a tale," I agree mildly, as I pluck the appliance from Qui-gon's mouth.

"Hmm, temperature seems fine. I should get another master to check, just in case. And you," I place the thermostat down and fix Obi-wan's collar. It's crooked. "Need to get going before you are late for your _private meeting_, busy man. I'll watch over your teacher, he'll need to be in tip-top shape if he's to keep up with you again," I assert.

Obi-wan grins impishly, the twinkle in his eye turning into a star of light. "Are you sure he'll be safe? You won't attempt to 'tear out his bowels' with a needle?" Shut up, okay? Let it go.

It was _once_, and I certainly won't put such stock in your behind again. "I promise," I say, half chuckling. You are funny when you want to be, Obi. But it won't save you from the collective wrath of the council.

Qui-gon is staring at the needle cabinet with the air of someone speculating whether he wishes to die with honor or grovel for his life. "I will see you soon, master. Be well," Obi-wan calls into the room, a bit awkwardly, as we exit. Qui-gon gets no chance to answer before the door closes. Obi-wan let's out a slow breath. I cock my head curiously.

"It's as if he's a stranger," Obi-wan explains; with a sheepish grin. "After this entire time away…And all that's happened, all I've learned…We have a lot of work to do," he sighs, and I can hear he is not eager for the long road ahead, but he will travel it anyway if only out of curiosity for what is on the other side. "Yep, and it starts with the council. May the force be with you," I dismiss him with a casual shove in the direction of the door.

Best just to get it over with.

He hears the thought in my head and grants me a small assuring grin before turning and waltzing out the door with the dignity of a king.

He is a cocky barve for sure, but he is a great man, a wonderful Jedi. And for that fact alone, I will take good care of his master.


	20. Chapter 20

~Obi-wan~

Two hours after I leave the med-bay, and I half wish I were back. I wish I were anywhere but here, really. Maybe back at Dray's study or on Naboo.

The gleaming sun has already set in the background of the council chambers, and the busy nightlights of Courascant speed and thread their way past with a dizzying array of colors. I am tired, hungry and guilt-ridden, yet I show none of this. Emotion is distraction.

I merely await the council's verdict.

"So, let me clarify," Master Windu leans forward, eyes burning into my own, spidery fingers clicking together menacingly.I cannot tell if he is satisfied, unconvinced or curious, but he does not look happy. "Instead of fighting the bounty hunters, trapping or out-smarting them, as were options that could have been considered, you blew up an entire settlement?" Well, when you say it that way, it sounds idiotic.

"Yes, master."

Master Mundi and Master Yoda exchange glances. I hear Yoda let out a thrumming growl slash sigh of thoughtfulness. "In order to save the lives of the people there when you had no reasonably set plan to keep them alive in the sweltering desert?" Force, master, I sound more stupid by the minute. I had expected censure but not denouncement.

"Yes, master."

I am sworn and bound to the truth. The truth hurts, but it is still there. "And to save the life of one person and complete your mission, you were willing to break protocol and take your own initiative?" And it had been hard as heck to finally do it, too, but these small details do not matter in a Jedi's life.

"Yes, master."

He settles back in his chair and raises his brows at me. "I see," he finishes coolly. "Irresponsible and injudicious act you committed, Padawan. Risk much you did, destroyed much you have. Say for yourself, what have you?" Yoda demands firmly. His eyes hold deep disappointment that severs into the lining of my soul. I never meant to disappoint you, master.

I inhale deeply, steeling myself. "I did what I thought was right, masters," I tell them honestly. "Not what was proper, admittedly, but what seemed the right thing to do. What the force_ told_ me to do. I was aware of the consequences and flaws in my plan from the start, and I claim responsibility for it," what else is there to say, in short?_ I'm sorry_.

"Sorry you are," Yoda perceives. I nod. "But not for your actions," Master Shaak Ti says softly. I shake my head. "No, masters. I know I did what was right, or else I would never have done it. The force was my guide, and I think…I think it wanted me to learn how to _let go_ and do what is right above what I believe is proper. Often what is right is not proper. I am only sorry I disappointed the faith you put in me," so sorry.

I have always strived to do proud by your memory with my example, Tahl, and I have failed you, as well. For that, I am infinitely condemned. The entire council seems to share one glance.

I've always wondered how they do that. "Very well, your punishment you will now receive," Yoda says, with much too cheerful a voice. There is this odd sparkle in his eyes that speaks of…is that pride? Could it possibly be? No. I must be imagining things. He was disappointed in me a second ago.

"We must punish this grave act or else the universe will never cease ridiculing the Order for it," Master Windu tells me. I nod understandingly. I know why you give me this punishment, masters. I feel no ill-will towards you, none at all. I only hope I may earn back your trust with my hard work.

"Understand, do you, young one?" Master Yaddle prompts. I nod again, slowly. Of course I understand, why…? Wait, Master Windu said that they must punish me to keep the Order's flawless reputation intact, not because I have done anything wrong…So does that mean I am in no true trouble? What _does_ it mean?

"Not exactly, masters," I am picking up traces of deep amusement and pride from them all now. What is going on? You're supposed to be disappointed and angry. Why are you all smiling at me that way? "For your punishment, you will accompany Master Yoda and I back to the planet of Naboo so we can oversee the progress of rebuilding that town you have destroyed," Master Windu proclaims.

I am even more confused now, why is Master Windu and Yoda coming with me? And why are we going to Naboo instead of Ooban itself? "Masters?" I inquire cautiously. I mean, I can sense their real intentions, but maybe I've just gone mad or the council has or the force has or something, because you're supposed to be _punishing _me not bringing me on vacation with you.

"Decided are we, to Naboo we go," Yoda harrumphs, slamming his cane down imperiously. "But…But…I blew up the city!" I cannot help but stammer.

"Yes, it was a horrible act which you committed," Master Tinn assures me with a wave of his hand. He is grinning. He's actually grinning. They're…They're serious. Force, Qui-gon, why do you seem to believe the entire council is composed of hypocrites and liars? They're_ serious_!

"And we have ruled on the favor that manual labor or harsh indictments will not work with you. They only_ encourage_ your rashness," Master Shaak Ti grunts harshly. I can sense your motherly affection for me plainly master.

"Protocol, never disobeyed or broken must it be. Right, it is not," Yoda winks at me as he says it. Ha, ha! Out of the mouth of Dray himself, master! I struggle to keep from blushing. There is so much pride and warmth in the room it is growing just _a tad_ too tender for me.

"So, we must kill you with kindness. Master Jinn will be stuck here healing, thanks to your _adventures_, so Master Yoda and I will accompany you to see that you stay out of trouble," I imagine that together the three of us will get into lots of trouble ourselves, master, but the rest of the universe need not know that. After all, the council's word is final. I wish I could thank you, every one of you, but I settle with a grim bow instead.

"I respect your judgment, masters," thank, thank you so much. "Another thing, Padawan?" I straighten out and stare at Master Yaddle curiously. _More _rewards?

"Horrify the temple with our callousness we would not want too, so confidential is this punishment, hmm?" Oh, I see. You don't want any more protocol breakers on your hands. Well, far be it from me to start a new line of disobedient Qui-gon's, one is enough, I agree.

"I will exercise the utmost discretion, masters," I pledge gravely. "Good. Dismissed you are, troublemaker," Yoda tells me, waving his hand. I bow another time and turn, only to stop before I begin.

"Masters?" I turn, partially. "I have a concern. When we arrived back at Dray's underground home, the transmitter was completely repaired, but none of us could have been present to undertake the renovations. Do you think the force…?" Or do you suppose I've gone mad? The council, once more, exchange glances.

"Yes, well, there is something we ought to tell you, Obi-wan," Master Windu says, clearing his throat. He rarely uses my proper name; it is disconcerting. I turn around and look at my mentors, who are smiling ruefully back at me. I sense a tickle ripple up my spine.

"You say Mikra Dray was the former Jedi who helped you?" I nod, because they know that is the name I spoke. Jedi rarely mispronounce or mishear. "Padawan, Mikra Dray was indeed Master Sypho-Dyas's apprentice, and he did leave the Order," Master Mundi says slowly.

"The last promise he made before he left this chamber was that if the Jedi should ever need him, he would return. He was brilliant. He invented hundreds of little knick-knacks that make every day living better. He was actually on his way to fame and fortune when an old enemy from his Jedi days found out. He tracked Dray down, and murdered him in his own study, long before you were ever born," the entire length of my skin crawls.

It can't be. "But…But we saw him! He was real!" I cry. I cannot believe this, and yet it seems just so right, so undeniably _true_… "Oh, we believe you Padawan," Master Gallia assures me.

"For years now, dozens of Jedi have brought back similar accounts. Every time they land on that planet, the force draws them to Dray, and through the direst of circumstances, he leads them out unscathed and more at peace, if not unfocused. A Jedi does not forget his promises," she reminds me.

I stare at them and try to absorb this with a rational mind. Rationality aside, the force seems to laughing in my ear with Dray's voice_. "Gotcha,"_ it whispers teasingly.

It all makes sense… The natural mistrust we felt for Dray, and not once while we were there did he ever touch anything but the ground, he carried everything with the force.

I never saw him cook, yet the food was always ready, and he always had the perfect amount for us, nor did I ever see him eat or drink.

I had thought he was merely very well skilled in hiding his signature when he would arrive mysteriously and come out of nowhere, but no.

And the study! Qui-gon should not have made it through that night, yet he did, and his fever came roaring suddenly back while in that study where it felt so warm, as if the force itself thawed the room. I remembered our distrust for Dray, and the mistakes all of us made that were the result of our focus being clouded.

And didn't he keep saying that he missed the_ life_ of a Jedi? That he would be happy to help his brethren? And then his home, after the explosion nothing was out of place, not even a fallen over bookcase, I had thought it a miracle of the force, but it was Dray who protected Qui-gon from the blast and healed him.

I did not tell the others where I was going, they attacked Dray without proof, we fell asleep in a new territory, Garen didn't sense the Princess on top of him. Our focus was uncommonly off, yet we all felt a keen likeness for our host.

All of it _was_ Dray, only Dray is no longer alive. Ha! No wonder we amused him so! "So…So…He's a…" a ghost, a premonition, a spirit, what would you call these things?

"We have no clue what he is, young one," Master Koth chuckles. "Yet we know he is real and dead. I suppose that is all we _need_ to know," Master Gallia adds thoughtfully.

I suppose so, masters. Force, what a story to tell one day. Maybe not in this lifetime, but the next. After all, a Jedi takes an oath to protect and uphold truth and peace…But the oath does not include an expiration date in its contents. I smile at the thought that I will, indeed, be a Jedi _forever._ It cheers me. "Understood masters," for the first time in a long time, I am no longer confused. I _understand _now.

"Good. We leave at first light for your 'punishment'," Master Windu tells me, with a weary half-smile that few younglings ever see. He looks majestically handsome when he smiles. I am honored to have been one of the few to see it.

I bow and exit the council chambers, pretending not to hear the small chuckles of admiration I leave in my wake. My master is waiting for me, and we have a long journey ahead, much to build back that Tahl's death has destroyed. Much to apologize for, much to heal, even more too_ tentatively_ step our way past. Yet this time, it will be_ love_, and not attachment, that gets us through.


	21. Chapter 21

~Garen~

"You have to go back to that clay dust ball to oversee building? Oh, man, those villagers are going to ruin your life forever," Quin-lan smacks sympathetically.

"And two masters are going with you? You'd better believe you're in for a guilt-fest now," Siri adds, her azure eyes are actually worried this time. Obi-wan, though, only smiles tactfully at us and shrugs.

He seems to be taking this mighty well. Poor overconfident barve doesn't know what's coming. "It isn't fair that they've only decided to punish you," Bant harrumphs. "Yeah, we were all a part of it," I agree.

Master Qui-gon, sitting thoughtfully in his bed, cocks a slightly annoyed brow at us. "Since I was unconscious for a majority of this trip, could someone kindly summarize just_ what_ my apprentice is getting punished for?" he asks.

We are all packed into his tiny cubicle of a room. Obi-wan sit's besides his master in the chair, one ankle flung over his other leg and arms crossed plaintively.

His eyes are sparkling with secrets I'm pretty sure he'll never tell. You know what? Kenobi does like his secrets because I think he likes knowing more than everyone else. He's insecure that way.

Whatever. Let him have his stupid secrets. This punishment is poodoo. "He blew up an entire town," Siri explains, bluntly. "But it was for the greater good!" Bant hurries to elaborate when the master stares at his pupil in horror. "It was to save all their lives, and ours!" She says.

"So you _blew up_ the town?" Qui-gon demands; and his voice is just a little too high for the calm on his face. He looks as if he half wants to deny our claims and half wants to strangle his apprentice. Obi-wan nods. "It's…Complicated, master," he sighs.

"We might as well tell him the whole story, guys," I point out. "We're giving him a heart attack with these short answers," Bant perks up where she stands, but upon seeing that I was only using a figure of speech, calms back down.

"I already told my master the whole thing," she tells us wisely. "He couldn't believe that I bit a worm! Or led the villagers to safety!" she laughs.

"Before this I wouldn't have believed it either, Bant. My master found endless joy in the Princess's antics," Siri chuckles, shaking her head.

"I don't even know how you'll explain about your new girlfriend to your master, Garen," Quin-lan quips, with a malicious smile my way.

I glare at him. "I was _planning_ on leaving that part out, thanks Quin-lan," I growl back. He laughs; obnoxious chosski. Master Jinn looks rather pale.

"From what I've heard thus far, these past few days sound like quite the journey," he raises his brows, inquisitively. "Does this…Um…Er… _Alway_s happen when you five are put together?" he inquires. We all look at one another curiously.

When we were younglings….? Not counting the times we trapped our classmates in trees or broke into the archives…?

Obi-wan clears his throat, memories evident on his expression. "Sometimes ignorance is the best shield master," he says sensibly. "Especially where we're concerned," Siri agrees with a nod. "With that said, how should we begin the story?" Bant asks, rubbing her scaled hands together giddily. This will be quite the fun tale. I look around at my friends, and grin.

A Jedi is used to saying goodbye, and we say it more than hello, but somehow I suspect that with us five, goodbyes are no longer an option. We've spent too long at each other's sides for that. This is just one adventure among the many yet to come. I can't wait.

"How about we start with the one word none of us know but that accompanied every pivotal moment these past three days?" I suggest.

The others turn to stare at me curiously, wondering what it could be. I grin my lopsided grin and raise my brows. You guy's know what I mean.

"Oh!" They say in eager unison. "You mean….?" Obi-wan leans forward, eyes twinkling. "AAARRRGGHHH!" We all scream in our best imitation.

The look on Master Jinn's face is enough to keep us all laughing for a very, very long time.

**_THE END_**


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